#the beauty of being self-employed

[espinosaurusrexex]

Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck. 

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.  

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things. 

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home. 

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.  

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did. 

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away. 

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you. 

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul. 

Holy Shit. 

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer. 

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare. 

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you. 

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it. 

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner. 

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve. 

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement. 

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.” 

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again. 

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen. 

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.” 

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar. 

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid. 

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table. 

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City. 

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted. 

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat. 

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.” 

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.” 

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible. 

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends. 

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction. 

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them. 

“You aren’t serious.” 

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup. 

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.” 

“You’re rich, too, Sam.” 

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.” 

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.” 

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now. 

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked. 

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great. 

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.  

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite. 

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule. 

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do. 

You knew better though. 

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible. 

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so. 

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work. 

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home. 

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him. 

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right. 

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary. 

It was worrisome. 

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him. 

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet. 

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.” 

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?” 

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock. 

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little. 

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore. 

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way. 

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward. 

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.” 

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall. 

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through. 

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back. 

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions. 

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty. 

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet. 

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit. 

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise. 

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that. 

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage. 

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.” 

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him. 

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude. 

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.” 

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long. 

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you. 

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips. 

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent. 

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler. 

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard. 

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool. 

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy. 

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture. 

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you. 

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there. 

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before. 

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there. 

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off. 

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was. 

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell. 

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants. 

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants. 

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip. 

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video. 

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress. 

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer. 

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream. 

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst. 

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.  

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises. 

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker. 

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying. 

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks. 

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter. 

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated. 

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again. 

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing! 

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed. 

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet. 

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.” 

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work. 

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office. 

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong. 

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set. 

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good. 

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet. 

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end. 

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk. 

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island. 

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on. 

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were. 

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top. 

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too. 

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say. 

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now. 

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near. 

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch. 

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display. 

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face. 

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well. 

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours. 

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently. 

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace. 

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air. 

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his. 

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing. 

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.” 

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine. 

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient. 

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.” 

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them. 

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core. 

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world. 

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.” 

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.” 

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.” 

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind. 

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out. 

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything. 

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. 

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure. 

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs. 

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him. 

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm. 

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating. 

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again. 

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder. 

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach. 

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind. 

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer. 

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest. 

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you. 

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him. 

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure. 

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone. 

“Good morning, Sharon.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head. 

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away. 

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant. 

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as. 

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker. 

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful. 

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning. 

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts. 

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m. 

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything. 

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud. 

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was. 

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly. 

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom. 

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated. 

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off. 

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by. 

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead. 

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin. 

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt. 

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra. 

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them. 

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat. 

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right. 

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.” 

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist. 

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much. 

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you. 

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation. 

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!

If you’ve read this far, I would be so happy to receive a comment or reblog. It helps writers reach more people in the community and also improve themselves. So, if you have the time, please consider giving me some feedback :) until next time ~Meg 💞

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[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Perspectives

marshmallow floof plot: Megumi recalls you and Gojo falling in love through his eyes. content: fem! reader, megumi is in denial about caring about Gojo, Gojo is obsesseddddd with you shamelessly, but its okay because so are you with him! warning!: megumi is not good with emotions :/ or tolerating Gojo word count: 5.7k satoru gojo x reader note: can we pretend utahime and gojo are the same age pls and thank u - also i am delusional and in my head suguru did not defect so gojo never had to go thru all of that okay <3333 anywau i hope you enjoy!! put a lot of thought and love into this!

At only six years old, Megumi was already quite intelligent. As an extremely perceptive child, he understood far more than he should have at such an age. Typically, kids his age were naive and gullible; Megumi however was the complete opposite, and that was partially due to his aloofness.

When Satoru Gojo first met Megumi, he felt like he was talking to a grandpa in a miniature body, sassing anyone who dare interact with his little self. As stern and as gloomy as the boy persisted on to be, though, Gojo picked up on hints of tenderness and compassion laced between every word Megumi spoke about his sister, Tsumiki. Easily, Gojo could discern what he deemed too much deeply rooted pain and defensiveness in the young Fushiguro. Having his guard up was engraved into his mind; the wall he placed between him and the world had it's own sector in his immune system and acted with automaticity, an innate defense mechanism.

Despite all of the anguish intertwined in every breath Megumi exhaled, and despite his cold nature he employed to protect himself from being hurt again as he has before; despite being abandoned, and despite not being surprised he was; despite not even hitting double digits, yet already carrying the attitude of a the wisest owl; despite all of the thoughts racing through Gojo's head, he knew Megumi was special. Though a part of it may have been due to the responsibility he felt over the boy after murdering his father, Satoru Gojo was confident in one thing: he would take care of this kid like his life depended on it.

From then on, Gojo took the role of Megumi's benefactor, funding him and his sister so that they could live without worry. Megumi begrudgingly allowed him to endow his life, though it was rather difficult. The guy was so over-the-top and bothersome when he decided to actually go and physically check up him. Visits from were sparse, though, if Megumi really cared or needed anything, Gojo was always a text away.

And soon he would learn that you were, too.

The first time your existence was brought to Fushiguru's attention, it was mildly unintentional on Gojo's end. He was completing his routine check-in on Megumi about six months after taking him under his wing, ensuring he was doing fine in school - other than the fights he found himself in every now and again, of course. And after everything checked out okay, he rambled on about his week and how exhausting it was being the strongest, greatest individual to exist in this time and how much Yaga has been up his ass since he was promoted to principal and blah blah blah...

"Can you believe he was expecting me to get to the school before nine A.M.? Hah! Funny man. I need my beauty sleep. How else would I always look this handso- Oh!"

Megumi, who was in no way religious, praised in that moment whatever God up above sent a call to Gojo's phone at that exact moment, for he failed to believe he could have pretended to listen to another second of his unimportant and unnecessary rant. It truly was over-the-top, and Megumi was not a fan. He had never, nor did he think he would ever, warmed up to the way Gojo's ego seems to make a nearly empty room feel claustrophobic.

"Heyyyyy!" Gojo dragged, acting like a highschool girl with the way he twirled the end of his hair and giggled at whoever was at other end of the phone. If Megumi cared to look closely enough (which he totally doesn't, since he is so disinterested in Gojo and does not dare to look at him too long or he will automatically become annoyed), a rosy hue could barely be seen on the apples of the older man's cheeks, growing more and more apparent the longer the phone call went on.

Obviously, Megumi did not want to listen to the likely boring conversation, but since he was stuck in the same room as Gojo, he had no other choice but to eavesdrop on the phone call. Or, more accurately, he was playing detective to solve the mystery of who on the other end was transforming Gojo, as childish as he is, into a tweenage boy talking to a cute girl for the first time.

"I'm with Fushiguru, actually," Megumi overheard, his interest only minutely piqued after hearing his name. Whoever was on the other end must have known who he was already given the way Gojo did not feel the need to elaborate on who exactly Fushiguru was. That irked Megumi.

"Yeah, just hanging out, you know. I'd say we're best buds! Right, Megumi?" Gojo moved the phone away from his ear and looked at the boy across from him expectedly.

"No," is all Megumi spoke in response.

Gojo's eyes widened slightly, not expecting such a response, before he laughed and continued, "Silly guy! Such a silly guy."

The call took way too long and Megumi was half tempted to leave the room, but he was still getting used to Gojo and did not fully understand what his role was in his current situation. Was Gojo considered a houseguest? Was Megumi supposed to have something prepared as a thank you? Even if he was, he wouldn't do that for Gojo. What if something went wrong, or Gojo did something stupid? Tsumiki was at her after school club, being the natural social butterfly she was. Megumi had assumed the role of the man of the house at merely seven, and he was not going to disappoint her or let anything go haywire on his watch. This was his roof, and nothing would happen to their humble little abode under his watch.

Finally, Gojo said his goodbyes to whoever he was speaking to, set his phone down, and sighed in the most i-must-be-living-in-a-daydream-because-there-is-no-way-life-can-be-this-good-and-i-am-so-in-love-but-i-dont-even-know-it sort of way.

"You would like her," Gojo broke the silence after a few moments of savoring the butterflies in his stomach.

"Who was that?" Megumi queried, and if Gojo listened closely, he could hear echos of intense interest in the boy's simple question.

"A friend from work."

"You don't have friends."

"Hey!"

-----

After your existence was brought to light, it became a thing that whenever Gojo visited, he spent half the time on the phone - whether texting or on a phone call, it didn't matter. He was always talking to you.

Megumi supposed he should have felt grateful since Gojo finally became less unbearable. His check-ins, although hard to predict when they would be or how long in between they would reoccur, became less about how much Gojo loves himself and more about... well, you. It was a nice change from hearing his neverending egocentric comments, to be fair. Megumi was not complaining.

"You remember her, right, Megumi?" he asked while walking Megumi home from school one day. He was on a tyrant about something that had happened at Jujutsu High a few days prior before realizing he might had forgotten about the most important detail: you. The chance that Megumi may not even know who he was speaking about generated a sharp gasp escaping from Gojo's lips.

"Yes. She's all you talk about," Megumi deadpanned. What a stupid question, the boy thought to himself, when Gojo asked this every single time he bothered to show his face around here.

Gojo chuckled, responding in a voice that was way up in the clouds, as if he was skipping through a meadow abundant with good feelings and the potential for new relationships, "Hm, yeah. I guess you're right! Sorry, kid. Just had to make sure you knew."

At this point, Megumi learned a lot about you: You taught second-year sorcerers at Tokyo Jujutsu High, you went to Kyoto Jujutsu High, you were in same year as Gojo was, you were acquaintances for a while, your best friend (unfortunately so, as Gojo whined when he told Megumi) was Utahime, who was oddly protective of you and rude for no reason to Gojo (it is most definitely within reason), you were the most selfless person to walk the surface of this planet, you cared more for others than for yourself, and you and Gojo were really, really, really good friends now that you worked together and you two were close and he was friends with you and you texted him all the time and hung out too and you spent time together and you are theprettiestpersonhehadeverplacedhissixeyeson-

Basically, Megumi knew more about you than he comfortably should, and you were all Gojo seemed to talk about now.

Megumi found it sort of... endearing how much Gojo spoke about you. For someone so certain in himself and all of his glory, it was nice to hear him talk about someone else that way. He discerned an innocent intent in Gojo's actions, from the soft grin that graced his face when he rattled on about you, to the way he had begun to ask eight-year-old Megumi for advice on women (which he has surprisingly been helpful with - especially the time when Gojo didn't know if you'd prefer a specific flavor of mochi over another, and Megumi's suggestion ended up being the perfect one because it was your favorite). And though he would never, ever utter the words out loud, Megumi enjoyed hearing Gojo talk about you. It brought him down to earth and made him feel more like a mortal being; even Satoru Gojo crushed, fawning over you like you were a brand new toy and he was a toddler unwrapping gifts on Christmas Day. Even the man who had everything in the world simply wanted just like the rest of the world; he yearned for things in life that he did not ("Not yet, but surely soon!" Megumi was certain Gojo would say if he could read minds) have.

The two boys sat together at Megumi's, eating some sweets Gojo brought back from his mission. Gojo had a bouquet of flowers set delicately on the table in front of him, preparing himself to go to your house after his pep talk with Megumi and ask you on a date. Finally.

Staring at the flowers beside him, Gojo resolved to pick a flower out of the bouquet; a pretty, pale pink daisy that reminded him of the shade of your cheeks when he teased you. He rolled the green stem of the daisy back and forth between his index finger and thumb while echoing the declarations of his planned speech confessing his feelings for you. He had his heartfelt soliloquy memorized, but he was still feeling... apprehensive.

"She loves me," Gojo began, plucking a petal off of the flower and setting it delicately on the table. He spoke lowly, as if his life depended on the resolution he would find when he would extricate the last of the daisy's petals.

Megumi looked up from the book he was reading - a true crime mystery he had been quite invested in - to figure out what the man next to him was doing.

"She loves me not," Gojo plucked another petal, placing it on top of the other one he had already taken off.

Ah, Megumi understood it now. He's transforming into a child; his obsession with you had turned his brain to mush. He had now, mentally, been beat by Megumi, descending into the intellect a five year old smitten with a kindergarten crush.

"She loves me!" Gojo chirped. He plucked another petal before reporting with a glum tone, "She loves me not."

This went on and on. Megumi observed without a word and Gojo continuing the game that is so typically played on on a children's playground.

How on earth did you have such a drastic effect a man so above the rest of society? The man put on a pedestal by all of the Jujutsu world; the one who could take on any obstacle and leave without a scratch; the same guy who died and brought himself back to life; he could isolate himself from the rest of the world in an instant using only his limitless technique, yet, you always found a way to draw him back him - and somehow, somewhere in the mix, you had The Strongest Sorcerer wrapped around your finger.

"She loves me, Megumi!" Gojo proclaimed when he picked the final petal from the flower. "I mean, of course she does. Look at me."

Ah, there was the daily dose of Gojo's big ego; his head was as inflated as expected, but was on display little later than usual. Megumi referred to it as The Daily Dose of Gojo: DDG. He was bound to hear at least once a day about how much Gojo loved himself, whether through text or in person. But today, it was more like he was venturing to persuade himself on that fact, too.

Megumi then realized that this was the first time he had seen Gojo nervous.

He wondered what about you could make Gojo nervous, because not even the strongest of curses causes The Strongest Sorcerer to break into a sweat. What exactly is it that you have that grants you the title of the one human who could make Satoru Gojo nervous? He understood that you were special to him, but he still had never met you, and he is starting to want to.

He wasn't sure why he felt so protective over you. You were a twenty-year-old woman who he has never even met in person, even though he knew from Gojo the color of your eyes and the smell of the perfume you always wore. One thing was for sure, though: if Satoru Gojo messed with your heart, Megumi would fight him with all of the effort his child body could exert in one go, then kick his ass all the way to the core of the earth to be at such a heat that his infinity disfunctioned, ensuring he suffers for ever even considering toying with your feelings.

-----

"Fushiguru!" Gojo hollered as Megumi exit his elementary school.

Megumi glared at the white-haired male as he stalked toward him, untrusting of the motives at play. Gojo watched the child over the rims of his sunglasses, a toothy smile spread across his face while he waved excitedly. He had something planned, as per usual.

"What do you want?" Megumi groaned, and he eyed the two individuals in front of him with suspicion, though he already had an idea on who you were.

It was an uncommon sight for him to be picked up from school, but for Gojo to be accompanied by someone other than Ijichi was borderline shocking. There was only one person you could be, however, and Megumi suppressed the fluttering of excitement he felt as he saw you.

"Hey! Rude to speak to your elders like that," Gojo jested flippantly. "I want you two to meet!"

Fushiguru listened as Gojo repeated every syllable of your name that he has repeated a million times before. It rolled smoothly off of his lips, like caramel drizzle on the sweetest treat from his favorite bakery. It has been about two months since you, somehow willingly, agreed to a date with Gojo. It has been about a month since you agreed to officially be his girlfriend, which Yaga was not the most pleased to hear, but Gojo dealt with that and ensured the security of both of your jobs.

"Hi, Fushiguru!" You waved, a wide smile adorning your face. "Nice to meet you! Gojo talks about you all of the time."

"Hi," Megumi quietly said. He suddenly felt shy in your presence. You stood in front of him in all of your beauty, with the kindest smile on your face and the softest look in your eye, gazing at him as if he were the most important person in the world. Gojo did not do you justice when describing you to him.

And suddenly, everything Gojo ever said about you made complete sense - now, he finally understood how even the famed Satoru Gojo fell victim to the enigma that was you.

"I'm a friend of Gojo's! I wanted to meet you, and I don't know if you would want to, but I would love to get to know you," you offered. You folded your hands together in front of you and smiled politely toward the young boy. You were doing your best to not look too nervous because you really did want to get to know this kid, but from what Gojo's told you, he was not the most sociable character. Something about his melancholy aura is rather intimidating, to say the least, and you were doing your best to accommodate.

"...will he be there?" the kid questioned after some thought. As he spoke, he pointed his thumb toward his benefactor who immediately took offense to whatever he was implying, whining loudly in the background of what had become the two of yours conversation.

"Who, Gojo? Oh, well, he doesn't have to be," you suggested over Gojo's objections. "It can just be you and me. Or, if you are more comfortable with it, he can come with-"

"No. No Gojo," he interrupted. Gojo continued in his protests, but they all drowned into white noise as Megumi continued. "But sure."

You craved so badly to smile widely, high five Gojo for the feat you just accomplished, jump up and down, and display your excitement for his agreement on your face. But you were so worried you would scare him off, so instead, you opted for a soft smile while you said, "Great! Is now okay?

"Sure," he returned, emotionless as always.

"Perfect. Your pick on what we do. And it's on Gojo!"

And you walked away, ignoring Gojo whining after you. You'd coddle him tonight when he would inevitably pout to you about abandoning him for a little kid. For now, though, the important task at hand was getting to know Megumi Fushiguru - who reluctantly held your hand as you walked to the arcade he selected.

From then on, you were a common face in Megumi's life.

When he was in fourth grade, the two of you started a tradition where every other week, you would pick him up early from school and get ice cream and talk (as much as Megumi was willing to, at least). You had surprised him after school one day a couple months ago, and the routine stuck after he asked you to go again the couple weeks later. Not that you ever complained - you would never in your right mind take for granted Megumi willingly hanging out with you.

"So, how has school been?" you probed, Megumi begrudgingly held your hand as you walked through the busy streets of Tokyo (he claimed he was old enough to walk on his own, but you told him it was just for your own sanity in the scary world of Tokyo and when he turned ten you wouldn't do it anymore, and who was he to deny you of peace of mind when that is all you ever wished upon everyone els?).

"Fine," Megumi muttered. He was not the most fond of crowds, which was glaringly obvious as he squeezed your hand more aggressively the farther you ventured into the city. So yeah, maybe he did kind of appreciate your overprotectiveness.

That was the day you learned Megumi had his first crush.

Well, okay, it wasn't really a crush. He just thought someone was cute.

As you sat side-by-side, he ate his vanilla ice cream cone with chocolate sprinkles, you ate your choice of ice cream, and the two of you chatted - meaning you talked, and he occasionally threw in a word or two.

"Any girls you think are cute? Or guys?" You sought, emphasizing the teasing nature of your question by tapping your elbow into his side. Megumi glared up at you through the strands of his hair, but you could see the red tint on his pale skin - a sign you were on to something. "Ooooh! Tell me all about them!"

"Stop it," he sulked and stared off into the distance, ice cream forgotten in his hand. You could tell he was thoroughly embarrassed, but you just could not for the life of you get over how adorable he looked.

"Aw, Megumi. I'm just teasing. But you can always talk about that with me, you know?" you offered. "I can give you all the advice on girls. I would not recommend asking Gojo about them. His flirting skills are... unconventional. Plus, I know I'm your favorite. So just gives an excuse to rub it in his face!"

"Thanks," Megumi spoke broodingly. His ice cream was starting to melt a little down the side of the waffle cone. The treat regained his attention as he finally noticed the melting mess, and immediately, he tackled cleaning it up. He hated messes.

"So... does that mean I'm your favorite?" you interrogated. This had been a debate between you and your boyfriend for a long time now.

"Sure."

And amongst the crowds of people, you - a full grown adult - hollered and jumped up and pumped your fist in satisfaction, because that was the best thing anyone had every said to you.

-----

Megumi took back whenever he had the ignorant thought that Gojo was becoming more bearable. Completely rescinded it. He was absolutely the most unbearable human to ever have walked this planet; residing in the same millennia as this man was barely tolerable, let alone inhaling the same air or sitting in the same room.

Gojo wanted to propose to you and he wouldn't stop talking about it.

Or asking Megumi for advice.

Yeah. Satoru Gojo was asking an eleven-year-old boy for help proposing to his long-term girlfriend.

You had been dating for over three years, and Gojo was growing impatient; he wanted you to be fully his. Not that you weren't already, but he wanted to be officially - by the law, by the symbol of marriage, and by the ceremony that accompanied it. He wanted you to take his name and be a new addition to the Gojo lineage, and if it came to the day, maybe add some little ones to the family. It was getting the point where want wasn't enough to describe how he felt - it was a necessity to marry to, to be yours forever.

Megumi had grown a lot closer with you with the past months, even opening up a little. He mentioned to you his internal debate regarding "good people" and "bad people", to which you listened, you heard him, and you cared. Genuinely. You hugged him, and in that moment, he felt so loved, he never wanted to leave your arms - the arms that would protect him from anything scary, like nightmares or curses, and shield him from experiencing any more hardships. He wasn't used to that - yeah he had his sister, whom he loved so dearly and she did in return, to be cared by a motherly figure was something he had barely experienced.

For the life of him, he could not figure out how or why you willingly, even happily, subjected yourself to the hinderance that was Gojo. Every time he asked you why, you respond, "Oh, Megumi, you're a funny one!" and laughed the heartwarming laugh that made him feel like home. Megumi knew, deep down somewhere he wouldn't ever like to admit, that you were happy, and Gojo made you happy. He knew you loved Gojo. He was fully aware of all of that. And he had witnessed as your relationship grew more serious with time Gojo beginning to think for more than just himself - he grew as an individual, doing what he thought was best for the ones he loved, rather than what suited him best. Megumi knew that come to it, Gojo would lay down his life for you. If it meant making a deal with the most dangerous curse, or if it meant sacrificing his soul, Gojo would do it for you, and honestly, Megumi had the inkling that Gojo would do it for him too.

"What if I have a plane do the whole 'marry me?' in the sky? Ugh, but that is so overdone. I need to be creative and go all out for her. What do you think, Megumi?" Gojo inquired, to which Megumi only tuned back in because he heard the sound of his name.

"Just ask her. You know she'll say yes," Megumi grumbled what he already knew was fact.

"Well, of course she will. Who would turn down my handsome self?" Gojo gestures to his person, a confident smile on his lips. "But you're right. Ugh, Megumi, what do I do?" Gojo held an ebony ring box, anxiously passing it from one hand to the other and back, the piece of jewelry it contained an indicator of how serious he was about this. Why he was carrying such an expensive ring around so casually was beyond Megumi's pay grade, but he knew Gojo would not let anything happen to it.

"You'll figure it out," Megumi said, as he had no ideas either - you deserved everything in the world, and no proposal or material thing would be enough to thank you for all you have done for everyone else.

"Oh my god, I did!" Gojo jumped from his seat, giddy as a little kid, and celebrated whatever idea he came up with. He placed the ring box in his pocket, where he would protect it with every cell in his body.

"Great," Megumi said. He prayed to himself that Gojo would now finally get out of his hair.

"I'll take her on a nice trip - she's always wanted to sightsee in Europe, but hasn't had the time - and then, once we land in Greece, I'll do it there and- and I'll leave it at that. Don't wanna spoil the surprise yet for everyone. Thanks Megumi!"

And Megumi smiled a tiny little smile to himself as Gojo exited his house, excited for the two of you.

And he congratulated you when you came home from the trip Gojo planned for the two of you. You visited him and ran up, showing off the ring you were sure Gojo spared no expense on. Though, Megumi had already seen it from the hundreds of times Gojo showed him it, and not to mention all the pictures you send him from overseas.

And he continued to be excited for you as he helped you with planning - because if there is one thing to know about Megumi, it's that he is organized. So he helped you figure your ceremony out by ensuring all the paperwork you had and the appointments you booked and all of your purchases were kept track of, or else the wedding would have been a disaster. If Gojo asked him for help, though, he would laugh in his face and say absolutely not.

And then, before he knew it, the wedding was there. Megumi was the ring bearer, of course. He was almost 13 at that point, and he was starting to grow into himself and show signs of growing up (puberty!).

He felt... happy.

Happy for you. Happy for the new and official makeshift family that established itself. Happy to know that you were genuinely happy, and that for all of the love you constantly gave to others without hesitation, someone gave finally was giving you that love back, and then some. Because he saw how much Gojo adored you, and honestly, there was no one else he would want to be with you.

Now he stands, at Tokyo Jujutsu High for his first year at the school. His benefactor who drives him up the wall is his teacher, and now, not only does he have to deal with him normally, but he actually has to listen to him.

But at least you're there too. He has you, always.

And for that, he smiles. A rare smile reserved for the sparse moments where he is genuinely happy - and he is, because he knows you'll save him from Gojo if he needs you to.

The improvised family he's found himself in may not be exactly what he dreamed of, but he's happy with it nonetheless.

And he still struggles with the dilemma of what is good or bad, and he still struggles to find his purpose in the world, and he is still angry at the universe for putting him in this world when there was no reason for him to be there, and he still struggles with the pain of abandonment and his found comfort in solidarity.

But that's okay. It'll be okay. He has you. He has you because Gojo brought you into his life.

He's grateful for that.

Megumi hopes one day he can find the love you share for himself. But that's a problem for the distant future. And when he has another crush, you will be the first to know - not because he would admit it to you, but because somehow, you always know. You know him better than he knows himself at this point, and it's a scary talent you have, but one you most definitely possess.

With that, Megumi steps forward, walking alongside you into the building he will be at almost everyday for the next few years. While he wasn't holding your hand like old times, it was okay. Because he was growing up, and he had a future ahead of him that made you so excited for him.

"I'll see you later, Meg. Got a long day ahead," you bid farewell and ruffle his hair. The two of you stop in the barren hallway facing each other, and you are disappointed at how he keeps growing, and at some point in the near future, he will surpass your height. It feels like you're shrinking, honestly, with how fast he's growing.

But you always knew he would at some point, just like you knew that he would one day decline holding your hand while in public, and how one day he would outgrow your ice cream runs (though they still happen every now and then, just not as frequent as in the past).

"See you," Megumi responds.

"Love ya!" You lean and place a chaste kiss on the side of Megumi's head. You remember when you used to be able to place one on the top of his head without going on your tiptoes, but times are changing, or you're shrinking or whatever, and the side of the head will do.

"Yeah, love you, too," Megumi says, rushing the end of the sentence and turning around to walk away. You say it to him so often, and he loves you, but it's still difficult for him to express that.

But that's okay. It's all okay.

He knows whatever is in the future, you will protect him, and Gojo will watch over him, and everything will be okay. The two of you will love him unconditionally, even if he struggles to say it back.

And he'll never admit it, but if there is one thing he's grateful for in life, it's Gojo, for he brought you into his life, and what a blessing it is to exist at the same time as you do.

"So, let me get this straight," you begin, staring at the three individuals in front of you. "You sent Megumi alone to find Sukuna's finger at some school, which was taken by random students who tried to unravel it, which ended in this kid-"

"Yuji Itadori, sensei!" Yuji introduces himself, saluting to you for some reason.

"Right. Itadori ate the finger. Sukuna's finger. And he is now Sukuna's vessel."

"Yup!" Gojo confirms and he gives you a thumbs up. "That about sums it up."

"So tell me why when I asked about three hours ago why all of the higher-ups were acting like they were shitting themselves, you didn't think to tell me what happened?" you ask, irritation with your husband woven in between every syllable you speak.

"I did, but I knew it would be fine, so I didn't want to worry you."

"Worry? Really? Do you know how worried I was when they said Sukuna was there?"

"Honey, you know I'm strong. I can face him."

Itadori looks to his new comrade, Fushiguru, to see if he was uncomfortable to watch the couple argue in front of them. He fails to be consoled when he sees Megumi wasison his phone nonchalantly as if nothing's wrong. Yuuji assumes Megumi was just tuning them out as a student being used to teachers bickering, so he decides to try to do the same. But it's not working.

"I don't care about your strength, I care about Megumi, and I care about the lives of those students, and-"

"Hey, Fushiguru?" Itadori says, and Megumi hums in response. "Is this normal?"

"-they were put at risk, Satoru! Do you understand that?"

With the couple continuing to argue in the background, Megumi looks up from his phone finally, answering, "Huh, this? Yeah. Get used to it. He's an idiot."

"Yes, baby, I understand, but I made a judgement call and I stand by that. I'm sorry-"

"Ah. Well, um. Can we leave? Do we have to stay?"

"-for not keeping you informed, but I promise you, I had it under control."

"Yeah. They won't even notice we're gone until one of them asks for our opinion and then they notice we're missing. It's just funny to watch them sometimes."

"The higher ups want to execute him! An innocent kid! And I know you got sweets in the middle of all of that. Are you serious-"

"You're used to this?" Itadori inquires, a naturally curious kid.

"-ly telling me that nothing different could have been done to prevent this?"

"I guess you could say that."

rawrrrr thank u for reading i love you SMMMM i loved writing this hehee <33333

[angstyhikka]

Its my b-day, now Im 23 and Im OLD XDD

I’m working today but hope to bring a bit more cool stuff soon!^^

Anyway, I'm now IN ST. PETERSBURG YAPPY, hanging out with my girls and urgently earning money to for living haha :,D

For the first time, I was hired for my first real part-time job (0_0). It lasts only three days, but this was more than enough to understand that being self-employed and making comms at home is much more comfortable and pleasant and interesting…. Normal job kinda sucks yeah XD

About pictures in the post. Its mosly references, and not beautiful full-render images because lately I was making beautiful full-render images only for comms and for myself just sketches were enough BUT I made a lot of them and they are all OUR AUS which I love and am proud of!^^

So, if you want to, you can reblog this or give me a coin to grab something yummy that would day my day!^^

[etz-ashashiyot]

Quotes from "Executed Jews" I want to especially highlight:

Two distinct patterns of antisemitism can be identified by the Jewish holidays that celebrate triumphs over them: Purim and Hanukkah. In the Purim version of antisemitism, exemplified by the Persian genocidal decrees in the biblical Book of Esther, the goal is openly stated and unambiguous: Kill all the Jews. In the Hanukkah version of antisemitism, whose appearances range from the Spanish Inquisition to the Soviet regime, the goal is still to eliminate Jewish civilization. But in the Hanukkah version, this goal could theoretically be accomplished simply by destroying Jewish civilization, while leaving the warm, de-Jewed bodies of its former practitioners intact.

For this reason, the Hanukkah version of antisemitism often employs Jews as its agents. It requires not dead Jews but cool Jews: those willing to give up whatever specific aspect of Jewish civilization is currently uncool. Of course, Judaism has always been uncool, going back to its origins as the planet's only monotheism, featuring a bossy and unsexy invisible God. Uncoolness is pretty much Judaism's brand, which is why cool people find it so threatening — and why Jews who are willing to become cool are absolutely necessary to Hanukkah antisemitism's success. These "converted" Jews are used to demonstrate the good intentions of the regime — which of course isn't antisemitic but merely requires that its Jews publicly flush thousands of years of Jewish civilization down the toilet in exchange for the worthy prize of not being treated like dirt, or not being murdered. For a few years. Maybe.

I wish I could tell the story of Ala's father concisely, compellingly, the way everyone prefers to hear about dead Jews. I regret to say that Benjamin Zuskin wasn't minding his own business and then randomly stuffed into a gas chamber, that his thirteen-year-old daughter did not sit in a closet writing an uplifting diary about the inherent goodness of humanity, that he did not leave behind sad-but-beautiful aphorisms pondering the absence of God while conveniently letting his fellow humans off the hook. He didn't even get crucified for his beliefs. Instead, he and his fellow Soviet Jewish artists — extraordinarily intelligent, creative, talented, and empathetic adults — were played for fools, falling into a slow-motion psychological horror story brimming with suspense and twisted self-blame. They were lured into a long game of appeasing and accommodating, giving up one inch after another of who they were in order to win that grand prize of being allowed to live.

Spoiler alert: they lost.

[...]

But Soviet support for Jewish culture was part of a larger plan to brainwash and coerce national minorities into submitting to the Soviet regime — and for Jews, it came at a very specific price. From the beginning, the regime eliminated anything that celebrated Jewish "nationality" that didn't suit its needs. Jews were awesome, provided they weren't practicing Jewish religion, studying traditional Jewish texts, using Hebrew, or supporting Zionism. The Soviet Union thus pioneered a versatile gaslighting slogan, which it later spread through its client states in the developing world and which remains popular today: it was not antisemitic, merely anti-Zionist. (In the process of not being antisemitic and merely being anti-Zionist, the regime managed to persecute, imprison, torture, and murder thousands of Jews.) What's left of Jewish culture once you surgically remove religious practice, traditional texts, Hebrew, and Zionism? In the Soviet Empire, one answer was Yiddish, but Yiddish was also suspect for its supposedly backwards elements. Nearly 15 percent of its words came directly from biblical and rabbinic Hebrew, so Soviet Yiddish schools and publishers, under the guise of "simplifying" spelling, implemented a new and quite literally antisemitic spelling system that eliminated those words' Near Eastern roots. Another answer was "folklore" — music, visual art, theater, and other creative work reflecting Jewish life — but of course most of that cultural material was also deeply rooted in biblical and rabbinic sources, or reflected common religious practices like Jewish holidays and customs, so that was treacherous too.

No, what the regime required were Yiddish stories that showed how horrible traditional Jewish practice was, stories in which happy, enlightened Yiddish-speaking heroes rejected both religion and Zionism (which, aside from its modern political form, is also a fundamental feature of ancient Jewish texts and prayers traditionally recited at least three times daily). This de-Jewing process is clear from the repertoire of the government-sponsored Moscow State Yiddish Theater, which could only present or adapt Yiddish plays that denounced traditional Judaism as backward, bourgeois, corrupt, or even more explicitly — as in the many productions involving ghosts or graveyard scenes — as dead. As its actors would be, soon enough.

The Soviet Union's destruction of Jewish culture commenced, in a calculated move, with Jews positioned as the destroyers. It began with the Yevsektsiya, committees of Jewish Bolsheviks whose paid government jobs from 1918 through 1930 were to persecute, imprison, and occasionally murder Jews who participated in religious or Zionist institutions — categories that included everything from synagogues to sports clubs, all of which were shut down and their leaders either exiled or "purged." This went on, of course, until the regime purged the Yevsektsiya members themselves.

The pattern repeated in the 1940s. As sordid as the Yeveksiya chapter was, I found myself more intrigued by the undoing of the Jewish Antifascist Committee, a board of prominent Soviet Jewish artists and intellectuals established by Joseph Stalin in 1942 to drum up financial support from Jews overseas for the Soviet war effort. Two of the more prominent names on the JAC's roster of talent were Solomon Mikhoels, the director of the Moscow State Yiddish Theater, and Ala's father Benjamin Zuskin, the theater's leading actor. After promoting these people during the war, Stalin decided these loyal Soviet Jews were no longer useful, and charged them all with treason. He had decided that this committee he himself created was in fact a secret Zionist cabal, designed to bring down the Soviet state. Mikhoels was murdered first, in a 1948 hit staged to look like a traffic accident. Nearly all the others — Zuskin and twelve more Jewish luminaries, including the novelist Dovid Bergelson, who had proclaimed Moscow as the center of the Yiddish future — were executed by firing squad on August 1952.

Just as the regime accused these Jewish artists and intellectuals of being too "nationalist" (read: Jewish), today's long hindsight makes it strangely tempting to read this history and accuse them of not being "nationalist" enough — that is, of being so foolishly committed to the Soviet regime that they were unable to see the writing on the wall. Many works on this subject have said as much. In Stalin's Secret Pogrom, the indispensable English translation of transcripts from the JAC "trial," Russia scholar Joshua Rubenstein concludes his lengthy introduction with the following:

As for the defendants at the trial, it is not clear what they believed about the system they each served. Their lives darkly embodied the tragedy of Soviet Jewry. A combination of revolutionary commitment and naive idealism had tied them to a system they could not renounce. Whatever doubts or misgivings they had, they kept to themselves, and served the Kremlin with the required enthusiasm. They were not dissidents. They were Jewish martyrs. They were also Soviet patriots. Stalin repaid their loyalty by destroying them.

This is completely true, and also completely unfair. The tragedy — even the term seems unjust, with its implied blaming of the victim — was not that these Soviet Jews sold their souls to the devil, though many clearly did. The tragedy was that integrity was never an option in the first place.

[...]

In Jerusalem that morning, Ala told me, in a sudden private moment of anger and candor, that the Soviet Union's treatment of the Jews was worse than Nazi Germany's. I tried to argue, but she shut me up. Obviously the Nazi atrocities against Jews were incomparable, a fact Ala later acknowledged in a calmer mood. But over four generations, the Soviet regime forced Jews to participate in and internalize their own humiliation - and in that way, Ala suggested, they destroyed far more souls. And they never, ever, paid for it.

"They never had a Nuremberg," Ala told me that day, with a quiet fury. "They never acknowledged the evil of what they did. The Nazis were open about what they were doing, but the Soviets pretended. They lured the Jews in, they baited them with support and recognition, they used them, they tricked them, and then they killed them. It was a trap. And no one knows about it, even now. People know about the Holocaust, but not this. Even here in Israel, people don't know. How did you know?"

— Excerpted from "Executed Jews," Chapter 4 of People Love Dead Jews by Dara Horn

(All emphasis mine)

Read the full chapter here.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Hello uuhh.....can you make yandere twisted wonderland characters react to a female reader who hates/afraid love plss???

Prompt: He could hardly believe his ears when he heard you say that you didn't believe in love.

Pairing: Any Yan!TWST Boy of your choice x GN!Reader/ Yuu/ Prefect

Genre: Yandere

TW: I mean, it is like, yandere stuff so a natural tw for that. Other than that, if there's anything I've missed, please let me know ^^

AN: I've taken many creative liberties with this request, and I hope you don't mind. In my experience, most people who claim to hate live or be afraid of it typically do not believe in it or have been hurt too badly by a loved one to care for it. So I went with the reader/yuu/prefect not believing in love. I'm also much more comfortable with writing gn!readers than fem or even male, so I hope you don't mind me writing it in such a format. Hope you enjoy!

He could hardly believe his ears when he heard you say that you didn't believe in love.

The information was never actually meant for his ears. It was something you muttered in passing to one of your friends, shaking your head with a wry smile on your face. Those syllables were never meant to grace his ears, but they did, and now he found himself in a dilemma.

You, of all people in NRC. You, who helped not only him, but so many others with their problems, stopping overblots despite being magic less. Doing so much while you gained so little, empty promises made by those who were meant to help your vulnerable self in an unfamiliar world. Never asking for anything in return as you employed every trick, every last bit of strength to take care of those who had endeared themselves to you.

You were the very personification of love in his eyes.

You didn't believe in it?

He didn't know what hurt more; you not believing in the concept of true love, or the prospect of you never falling in love with him.

Love had never been his first priority. He was at NRC for his own reasons, educational and otherwise. So when you came and flipped his world upside down, with your unassuming smiles and freely given affection, with your gentle and helping nature, he was hooked. He was in love. And you didn't believe in it?

Would this mean that you didn't believe in him, in his devotion to you? Would you reject his care, his concerns, his love for you if he revealed it?

Perhaps someone hurt you before, he reasoned, pacing his room. Hurt you enough for you to lose any hope in the emotion, perhaps even despise it. His blood boiled in his veins at the thought that someone could hurt you so badly, so deeply that you would deny yourself love, and deny him the opportunity, no– right, to love you.

Love was freedom. Love was madness. Love had sunk its claws into him, sending his very soul into the depths of hell and the highs of heaven simultaneously. It was beautiful and ugly, kind and cruel, imperfect yet so heartbreakingly perfect.

It was you.

And yet you did not believe in it?

He should have let go. He should have been content with what little of you he could get, be content with sharing your attention with the many others who were your ardent admirers.

But he couldn't let it be. He couldn't let you go through life without experiencing what you did to him. What you made of him.

He would help you, just like you helped everyone you came across. Help you see just how liberating love could be, even as he shackled you to himself. Help you see how utterly devoted one could be, even if he went against your wishes. He would help you see just how high love could take you, even as he became the reason an angel like you fell from your place in heaven. He would sully his hands if the need arose to let you know how much, and how deeply you affected him.

He would help you feel and recognize love.

So that one day you could recognize him as a product of love.

Your love.

[taylor-titmouse]

so we know that gender for dwarves is mainly divided between rock and jewel (for the sake of keeping it simple to explain. there are definitely genders outside that binary) and that rocks map closer to masculine, and that jewels map closer to feminine, but it has nothing at all to do with genitals and everything to do with presentation. in dwarven terms, tourmaline and angre are both crafters, in that they're capable of childbirth, but this is considered a sort of natural skill rather than tied to their value. outside of the aristocracy and royal lines and half-things, dwarves do not generally care about bloodlines. children are raised by the community. you keep track of your crafter and getter for the sake of good health, but outside of that, it's not a big deal what you have down there.

of course tourmaline and angre are both exceptions to the bloodline concern, given she's royalty and he's half human. but this post is for dissecting presentation, rather than social dynamics.

TOURMALINE AS A ROCK

so the richer you are, the more you want to show that off. we know that having smooth skin is indicative of free time/money to spend on achieving it. that doesn't change for rocks. the one difference is that rich rocks (and sometimes jewels!) may, instead of shaving their faces, engage in elaborate beard braiding and decoration. this is more common among the older generations, who by the time they reach those ages, are either too wrinkled or simply too tired of dealing with shaving and wax. tourmaline, being a strapping young stone, would shave completely. long hair would also still be considered the fashion for a young rock of his station. however, luxurious thickness is for jewels. a tight, sober braid is preferred for rocks for everyday wear. he also doesn't wear makeup. makeup is entirely the realm of jewels. foundation to hide blemishes at the very most, but otherwise it is not expected of him.

gemstones are incredibly important to dwarves, with a lot of coding regarding how much you can wear and what styles/stones you can wear. as a jewel, tourmaline would be expected to wear a Lot. earrings, hairpieces, bracelets, anklets, everything and anything. rocks are a bit more limited, because the presentation is about strength and steadfastness rather than beauty... but if you're rich, you still have to show it. so in practice, rich rocks and jewels can both be totally decked out, but rocks will favor chunkier, less delicate pieces. notably: rocks will also have more piercings than jewels, because it signals toughness against pain. thus, rock tourmaline has pierced his nipples and belly button. and of course he's not covering his chest to show that off (and wearing anything heavy would be uncomfortable)

the slitted trousers are of course to show off the hot smooth leg. it would be perfectly acceptable for him to wear a skirt or skirt-like piece, but for the sake of making him more readably masculine, he gets pants. his shoes would also have a slight heel or platform to them. there's a sweet spot of height that dwarves find attractive, and he's otherwise fairly average/short. angre would be just on the upper edge of it.

ANGRE AS A JEWEL

so while rock tourmaline is fairly unchanged, angre as a jewel would be a very different person with a very different life path. as a jewel, she cannot become a knight or soldier. she can be taught self defense and how to wield a weapon, but being employed in the defense of another is Not Done with jewels. remember: this has nothing to do with childcraft, entirely with presentation. if she wanted to become a knight, she would have to transition to rock, which isn't an uncommon occurrence. switching genders based on occupation is very normal. but then we'd just have original flavor angre. so this is an angre who took a different path.

this angre would be a lady in waiting, and, if we want to give her the equivalent job to captain of the guard, she would be tourmaline's royal barber. she would be in charge of the care and keeping of his body, a role that requires significant training and trust. she would have command over a team, but she would be the only one permitted to touch and tend to his neck, and would be a close confidante.

as for her presentation, she would be considered a very conservative jewel. nothing in her hair (which she wears long) and very few actual gemstones in her jewelry. this is partially about expectation--she is a commoner, and it would be very inappropriate for her to be ostentatious in the service of royals--but it would also be her own choice. she does not want to be attractive to the young prince [undecided on the actual term]. rock angre did not want to be perceived as a sexual threat to jewel tourmaline, and so jewel angre would not want to be perceived as a sexual option (but would be just as in love with him). so she wears simple patterns, little jewelry, and very light makeup. showing skin is something she can't really avoid, because it also represents her work. you wouldn't really trust a barber if they had a bad haircut.

phew. that's a lot.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

idk if you take anon requests but I am in love with Yandere ruthless and bloodthirsty Pirate captain who's obsessed with a princess from a small kingdom and takes her as wife in exchange for not plundering the kingdom and bleeding out their resources. He had planned for their first evening together to be romantic but she looks too tempting when she's frightened

🌹

CW: Extremely rough smut, sadistic behavior, bodily harm, knife play, blood, minor character death, dead dove

Edward listened to two of his crew members gossiping like handmaidens, feeling only mildly annoyed at their squawking. Usually by now he would have threatened to pull out their teeth to keep them quiet, but he secretly could understand their excitement. While pirates were blamed for anything that could go wrong on the open seas, they were actually often employed by nobility to do what their navies could not do legally. Still, it was a surprise to be extended a job offer from a large kingdom, considering Edward's notoriety.

Edward "The Living Death".

There wasn't a crew as fearsome as his. He had never worked for any of the self righteous kings or queens in the past who conscripted pirates for their aid, not because he thought too highly of himself, but because the stories of his wrath scared all the rich bastards away. And the stories were not exaggerations. Edward aimed to make himself the most terrible in the world, because while it was too late to ever be let into heaven, it wasn't too late to become powerful enough to kill Satan himself.

For an entire week the crew would be guests in the sea side kingdom, while The Living Death and two of his men would be welcomed into the castle for negotiations.

It was entertaining, being welcomed onto a king's land, and Edward was curious as to what King was so insane as to ask for his assistance, knowing that Edward was the type of man to torture sailors for sport.

The ship with black sails tied off on the dock of the grey and dull harbor. Although the carriage that awaited Edward was gaudy with its elaborate engravings, the buildings were drab and pitiful. Truly, a thriving kingdom. And the large castle that towered above the impoverished residents was just the icing on the cake. To enter the grounds a large gate had to be slowly opened, physically alienating the royals from their subjects.

The attendant waiting to take Edward and his mates to the study felt his jaw fall agape at the sight of the men. What parts of their bodies were visible were covered in deep scars, the men were large and intimidating, but the leader was almost inhumanly frightening, unnaturally blue eyes that almost looked blind pierced his soul through a mop of shaggy black hair.

Edward met with the king for introductions, however was politely dismissed to the rooms they would be staying in for a bath and meal, promising to begin negotiations the next day.

However, he couldn't expect pirates to do as he asked so blindly, so after his shower and a free change of clothes, Edward decided to wander the gardens, internally arguing with himself over what he is doing in a king's estate. Then he saw her.

A woman in a beautiful, yet simple, dress was being followed by a maid, chatting kindly with one another despite the class difference. From afar her voice touched something in Edward's spirit; a longing he hadn't been able to quench on the ocean.

Marilyn tensed up and fell back behind (Reader) where she was supposed to be, generally. (Reader) looked ahead to see what had frightened her handmaid, and witnessed a man she did not know approaching the both of them.

"Greetings, ladies." His voice was gravelled and exhausted, tugging on (Reader's) heartstrings. From under the stranger's freshly washed hair (Reader) could see a long scar between his eyes, matching the scars that littered the hand he offered to (Reader).

"Good sir." (Reader), without hesitation, responded with an extended hand. Marilyn audibly choked behind her, having to physically bite her tongue to prevent herself from shouting at the man to 'step off!'

Wind burnt lips kissed the back of (Reader's) hand, holding it for an inappropriate amount of time, yet (Reader's) expression of genuine kindness never changed. "You clearly do not know who I am." Although it was said with a smirk his tone was dangerous.

"Just as you clearly do not know of me." (Reader) held herself tall, praying that the man before her was not important enough to feel offended by her ignorance.

Edward's eyes sparkled beautifully as he straightened his back, as to tower over the lovely lady he had just met. The movement shifted his hair, better showcasing not only his eyes but the giant scar stretching from his hairline to the bridge of his nose. "I am here on business."

"What a coincidence." (Reader) smiled coyly. "As am I."

What is this feeling? Edward had many effects on women, fear, disgust, loathing, lust. But the smile on (Reader's) face was honest. Like a child who hasn't yet learned to fear the evils of men, her eyes were clear and unclouded, looking not at his scars, but his eyes; numb to the stench of blood he could never scrub himself clean of, the lamb had no clue she was speaking to a wolf, and he wasn't even in disguise.

"What kind of business does a lady have with a disgusting fool like this king?"

(Reader) gasped, taken back by his words, smiling nervously behind her fan. "Good sir, you just be careful with the way you speak about a king! I will not report you, but others shall not be so kind.." Concern laced her words as she searched the surroundings for eavesdroppers.

"The King knew who I was when he hired me, so he shouldn't be offended by my language."

"Still..." (Reader) sighed. "Well, if you are so curious, I'm here because of a marriage proposition."

"Marriage?" The idea irked Edward, and he had to hold back his hand from almost instinctively lashing out. What a strange reaction, feeling peeved over the possible engagement of a woman he's just met.

"Indeed, strange isn't it? I always knew marriage would one day come, but.. it is still quite the adventure." Her grin tightened, but it wasn't a happy smile, the expression felt more like a mother's attempt to console her frightened child.

There was an odd glow to (Reader's) eyes, and Edward was suddenly under the impression that the woman before him was secretly an angel, sent in disguise to test him, to see if Edward truly did long for the throne of hell. Again, his arm tried to move on it's own accord. What if, instead of allowing such an angel to return to heaven with her report on him, he caged her like a little song bird and ripped off her wings?

"I apologize, Miss, but I must cut our conversation short. Any longer and I might gouge out your eyes." Edward spoke with a smile, revealing his sharpened canines. But again, (Reader) surprised him, giggling back at him as though he had just made a light-hearted joke, while her maid behind her was grasping her breast like she was having a heart attack.

"Well, I shall keep a spoon in my pocket in case we need again!" (Reader's) laughter filled the garden.

She curtsied, back still straight and head dipped only as low to be polite. The maid, on the other hand, was practically folded in half and was bent down for so long she had to scurry after her lady.

As the mystery woman left, Edward had a lot of strange, foreign thoughts and feelings causing chaos in his mind and heart. He briefly fantasized about running after her, and taking her for himself behind a bush while her maid screamed for help. He had seen plenty of women's bodies before, but the fantasy of what could be hidden by his mystery lady's bodice was.. tantalizing.

Would she be impressed by his body? Or fearful? What kind of face would she make as he forced her to carry his children? Would she look at him with love and tenderness during the birth of their first born? Would she bite and scream and fight?

Edward discovered that he would have to return to his room prematurely, perplexed as to who that woman was, and why she had such an effect on him, causing an arousal despite not saying, or doing, anything sexually exciting.

Marilyn smacked her princess on the shoulder, red in the face and mouth frozen in horror. "My lady! I can't believe you!"

"What? Did my joke not make sense?" (Reader) asked in earnest. "I said I'd carry a spoon, so he had something to easily scoop my eyes out with."

"Not that, you-you- IMBECILE!" Marilyn cried out, grasping the lady she adored like a sister. "That man was The Living Death!"

"Oh. He didn't look dead to me." Another slap connected with the back of her neck.

"He was a pirate! A pirate!"

"A pirate? What was he doing here?" (Reader) nervously pondered, examining her maid's expression to see if she was pulling her leg.

"I don't know, but you should write a letter to your father immediately. No good man would want his daughter marrying into a family that deals with rotten apples."

After the sun rose into the dreary kingdom, Edward and his mates were finally invited into King Nikolai's study, meeting the rotund bastard who reeked of wine and pulled at his codpiece frequently.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today, gentlemen. You've saved me from an uncomfortable situation. That is, if you agree to my request."

"Well, let's not make this longer than necessary." Edward spat in disgust, feeling as though he would catch syphilis from just speaking with his potential employer.

"My son, my heir, has two marriage candidates. Two worthy marriage candidates. My friend, King Leopold has a, frankly stupid, daughter, Princess Cadence. Leopold and I decided long ago that his daughter should marry my son, and become queen when he surpasses me. Now the issue is King Dretious. His kingdom is.. small, but not unimpressive. It thrives wonderfully. He has only two daughters, pitiful him. The eldest is being trained to be his successor, which is wonderful for him since he was blessed with bright and charismatic daughters, but no man who marries her well become King, so there is no incentive there to send even my sons I dislike. The youngest, is a perfect marriage candidate. Princess (Reader). Intelligent, charming, attractive.." He took a ragged breath, his mind traveling to where it should not. "I desire her land. If she marry my son I'd have access as family to her resources, and in a generation or two my grandchildren could gain control of that little rock. But it isn't worth ruining my relationship with Leopold. That would be.. catastrophic."

Edward numbly wondered if the young woman he met was Princess Cadence, or Princess (Reader). In the short time he spent with her she certainly didn't seem stupid, so he was leaning towards the latter.

"But I want that land. Do you understand me?" King Nikolai's smile was sinister. "You can have whatever is in their castle, whatever can be looted, as long as I receive the deeds to their nation, signed and stamped, and King Dretious and his kin are exterminated."

"And what do we get? If I wanted to plunder a small country, I could do that without needing permission."

"Full, under the table, immunity, as well as enough money for you and your crew to retire in the Caribbean as lords." He was so smug as he pleaded his bargain that Edward considered killing him just to see him choke on his own blood.

Edward stood, walking around the king towards the window, debating whether or not it would be worth it to kill the fat asshole right then and there. But below the window, under a flowered tree, sat the woman he met the day before, watching birds as they flew overhead. "I met a young lady in the garden yesterday. She said she was here for a marriage proposition."

"Hmph, yes.. attractive, isn't she? That would have been Princess (Reader). She is unaware of her competition with Leopold's daughter, so it would have been unwise to have them both here at the same time."

(Reader) had her lips pursed, upset about something. 'How would those lips taste?' Edward thought excitedly.

"We'll do it." Edward spoke loudly, startling his men who were surprised by the boss's response.

His men questioned him on the way back to the ship. Surely he wasn't serious? Of course not... Captain Edward "The Living Death", the man who abandoned his family name, had a plan, one that he had come up with purely for selfish reasons, that did not include sucking up to a disease ridden rat. And he assured them, that after he got what he wanted, the crew would return, and burn King Nikolai's kingdom to the ground.

The wonderfully jolly, soft King Dretious, known for being unlike the cruel kings who ruled throughout the land, plump with age instead of greed, was petrified solid. The elderly father who was seen as a grandfather figure to his small island, blessed by the gods to always have the wisdom to do what was right, was stunned, incapable of coherent thought. Before him was a pirate captain who had demanded an audience, two months after his darling baby girl returned home from another country.

"What did you just say?" He stuttered out.

Edward stood beneath the kindly king sitting on his throne while wearing an ostentatiously decorated black frock coat, shining with it's abundance of gold decorations and precious jewels. His unnaturally bright eyes were fixated on the mortified princess standing behind her father.

"I have been hired to bring ruin to your kingdom. However, if you offer me a better prize than what I was promised by my employer, I'll reconsider my agreement with him." His gaze made (Reader's) skin crawl.

King Dretious swallowed the lump in his throat. "And what would that be? Whoever had the gall to request such a reason clearly had the resources to hire you, so I doubt anything of mine will compare."

"True. However, it isn't your money I'm after.." Edward stepped forward, still fixated on the younger princess will a hungry expression.

The eldest sister recognized the look of a predatory man before her father did, and stepped in front of (Reader) in a protective stance.

"I demand Princess (Reader's) hand in marriage."

"No!" The eldest princess spun around, grabbing onto (Reader) and hiding her within her embrace. "Father, you can't!"

"Please, Captain, isn't there anything else?" The King frantically begged, knowing that his army wasn't enough against The Living Death and his infamous crew of the damned.

Edward sighed, his patience wearing thin. With a snap of his fingers, his men brought forward four captives; the cook, two guards, and Marilyn. "Let's try that again." The demon spawn pulled out a gun and cocked it, aiming it at the older guard.

"Let's be civil-"

The King was cut off by a loud shot, killing the innocent man who had been a loyal employee of the castle for the past thirteen years. (Reader) hollered, frightened by the sudden bang.

Edward moved over to Marilyn, pulling down the hammer slowly. "No!" (Reader) burst free from her sister, running down the steps to fling herself onto her only friend's body, ready to be her shield.

"(Reader)!"

(Reader) cradled her maid, glaring through tears up at the man she foolishly thought was handsome only a couple of months ago. "I'LL DO IT! I'll do it! Just please.. no more."

Marilyn sobbed under (Reader's) weight. "Princess, no! Please - save yourself!"

"Sister, come back here now." The queen to be demanded, shaking and on the brink of tears herself.

Edward smiled wider than before, holstering his weapon. "Wise choice, angel." He turned his attention back to the King. "I hope you don't mind that there will be no wedding. For you see, God has no place in my life, even for happy occasions. I've already procured a marriage contract, so once it is signed that shall be that."

A calloused hand reached out to the princess.

"Shall we?"

The country was in mourning as the news of the princess's sacrifice spread faster than a plague, and nearly the entire country arrived to see her off as she boarded the pirate ship with black sails, stiffly shuffling next to her new husband, the certificate signed and verified only an hour prior. On what should be one's happiest day, the air was filled with sounds of heart breaking agony. (Reader) was numbly dragged onto the ship and into the captain's quarters, no longer a princess, but a wife to a monster.

Edward locked the door behind them, smiling wolfishly. "Welcome, to your new home, darling. Unfortunately, we will have to prolong our honeymoon, as I have a country to conquer."

"What?!" (Reader) collapsed before her new husband, clutching onto his shirt. "But you promised!"

"Ah, apologies, love, but I did not mean your old country." He pulled her onto her feet, kissing her knuckles. "I meant the country that asked me to kill you. Now that you are my wife, I can't stand for such insolence, now can I?"

(Reader) pulled away, eyes wide with disgust. "Was this your plan from the start? If you never truly cared, then why take me? Whatever loot you plunder from whoever it was that employed you will surely be worth more than my father's entire island, so if you had no qualms about taking on a presumably larger nation-state, then why?"

"You are a smart one." Edward chuckled, approaching (Reader) with a look she had never seen before, yet for some reason set her on edge. "I did it because I wanted you."

He lunged, tackling her onto a large bed covered in silk and furs. She struggled, fighting with all her might to push him off of her, but she just wasn't strong enough. (Reader) bit her lip in an effort to not cry again, a pitiful attempt to retain her pride.

"So strange.. I have had whores throw themselves at me many times in the past, but they were nothing but bodies. What is it about you that is so different?"

Nothing but bodies.. (Reader) had learned from Marilyn what happens on a woman's wedding night, but in the chaos of her marriage she had forgotten that that was what this was, her wedding night. Her face fell, tears whelmed up in her puffy red eyes, and her resolve to look brave cracked.

But this expression seemed to only excite the mad man further. His blue eyes grew hazy like he was drunk and his breathing became irregular. "So that's what you would look like.. I wondered."

A large knife was procured from behind his back, causing (Reader) to cry harder. With sadistically slow movements he cut through her dress. She made pathetic attempts to swipe at him, but Edward only responded by effortlessly flipping her onto her belly, slicing through the lace of her corset.

"So many layers to finally see the body I've been dreaming of. That will change, of course. If I want to see your beauty, I will. Even if you must live in the nude."

He ignored her screams as he tore off every article of clothing she wore, leaving (Reader) naked and shivering beneath him.

"Is it me that makes you shudder like this, or is it," he placed the blade against (Reader's) cheek, earning another gasp as her body practically convulsed, "either way, I'll pretend that your shaking is in excitement for me."

With (Reader) now on her back, Edward held the knife to her throat to prevent her from running while he removed his own clothing with one hand. Her sobs only grew louder as more of his scarred skin became visible.

"Please do-don't do this!"

"Don't what? Make love to my newlywed wife? Fine then. I'll fuck you instead."

His pants slipped down, revealing his fully erect manhood. (Reader) closed her eyes in shame, but Edward grabbed her face with enough force to bruise her chin, snapping them back open in shock of the pain.

"Look at what you've done to me. Without grabbing at my pants and begging me like a slut, you've already made my cock like this. Don't you feel special, knowing that you have that effect on your husband." Edward continued squeezing his bride's face painfully, forcing her to nod in agreement.

The tip of the knife drug down her skin without enough pressure to cut, but enough for (Reader) to feel the cold threat tingling and creating goosebumps, traveling teasingly from her breasts and over her quivering stomach, stopping at her exposed cunny. (Reader) felt the metal touch her where she was told never to touch herself, and was consumed by humiliation.

"Unfortunately for you, it seems that your modest body has not prepared itself for me. I would have taken the time to wetten your cunt, but as per your request, I am not to make love to you, but to fuck you."

"What does that-" a searing pain electrocuted her body as (Reader's) dry pussy was stretched over Edward's dick. Her throat was aching from all the screaming, but that didn't stop the sounds of agony from shrieking out.

He held himself inside of her, relishing in the feeling of her twitching hole tightening almost unbearably around him. For a brief moment, Edward's heart swelled with love, and he considered licking his fingers to provide his wife with lubrication, but the look on her face.. just from entering her (Reader) became so red she was almost purple, eyes flickering as though she were to pass out. It was too beautiful for words.

As he pulled out it caused an awful friction that (Reader) swore she could hear, an awful shuk shuk shuk as Edward removed himself, only to slam back in. It felt like she was being torn apart. He continued thrusting into her rapidly swelling sacred place. The tearing sensation morphed into a burning one, as her blood slickened her hole.

His movements only sped up, pounding into his bruised and bloody princess. (Reader) began to adjust to the pain, and started to push against Edward's chest, desperate enough to fight against him despite his knife still being held to her thigh.

Suddenly, (Reader's) legs were raised and folded back, pressing down into her arms to prevent her from moving. She pulled and struggled, disgusted by the wet noise as Edward's hips connected with hers, uncomfortably aware of his pelvis grinding against her sore clit. Edward grabbed her face again, popping her jaw open and sliding his knife into her mouth.

"Don't struggle, or you just might cut out your tongue." The man threatened, his malicious words clashing with the intense lust in his eyes.

(Reader's) nose scrunched up as she tried to glare at Edward, unable to spit out the knife because of his hold on her face.

"Ah, continue looking at me like that!" He sang with praise, his legs twitching with anticipation. "I'm about to cum!"

(Reader) didn't quite know what that meant, but she could feel him throbbing inside of her.

"I was going to wait until you've gotten used to being my wife, but I think I'm going to cum inside you! Fuck, I'm going to put my babies in you! I'm going to knock you up!"

Learning what was about to happen, (Reader) tried to scream without bumping the knife in her teeth.

Suddenly, the knife was thrown across the room, replaced by Edward's lips, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth as he climaxed deep in his wife's raw pussy. (Reader) didn't know if it was because she was aware that he was cumming inside of her, or if it was because of the paper thin cuts along her vaginal wall, but the fluid pumping into her was horrendously hot, burning her abused body.

He collapsed onto her, still kissing her passionately, tasting the lips he had craved since he first met her. When Edward pulled away, admiring the unbroken string of saliva connecting him to his lover, he knew why he had been so enamored with (Reader) since the beginning.

"I'm so excited to drag you down into hell with me, princess." 'There will be no escape from me. You are my gift from Satan, my little angel. You belong to me.'

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Rivalry To Romance

velvette x f!reader

Summary: You worked in cosmetics at the Vee tower alongside Velvette, unfortunately you’ve never gotten along. You found her obnoxious and she found you to be a pest. However you struggle with yourself on whether you truly hate her or just can’t accept your true emotions.

Warnings: Fem reader, reader throws things again so does velvette, valentinos presence yuck, suggestive but nothing serious. No mention of readers hairtype, bodytype or skin colour, shorter than i originally wanted womp but I think that’s it but lmk

Word count: 2.5k

we need more velvette i love her so much and there’s like no info on her character or back story at least that i could find woomp womp im trying clear up what i have drafted but sheesh im so picky and a perfectionist about it i wish i was a writing machine that it could come directly out of my brain like i see it y’know?

“I fucking hate her!” You screeched tossing make up across the room at your assistant. “Please, calm down, my head hurts.” Angel whined from your couch as you paced around him, your assistant booking it after the second thing, that being a vase, was thrown.

“I can't, she's intolerable, seriously. A brat.” You grit plopping down onto the cushion beside him. The two of you were in the Vee tower, you being what Velvette would call ‘the shadow of the vees’, you got in on the triangle based on accessibility; for the Vees that is. You were a cosmetic creator and produced varying products for demons of all kinds, not only was it beneficial for Valentino's pornstars but Velvette’s models.

When you were a self employed business it was still very lucrative, and getting around quickly. Gaining the opportunities to work with overlords, sinners you never expected as well as selling and gaining quicker than you could’ve imagined. It wasn’t long until Velvette had caught onto the rage, and that’s how you ended up in the tower working alongside her.

It was terrible from the start; you weren’t some meek little demon, yet Velvette treated you like you were some Imp! You hated her bratty, disrespectful loud mouth and you never failed to let her know.

BIting your nails down too low without realizing, Angel grabbed your hand successfully stopping you, and leaned forward. “Hey listen I know how it is to have a sucky boss. Heh, literally.” Angel snickered to himself while you muttered that she wasn’t your boss. “But if i’m being honest, it sounds like sexual frustration,” He twiddled his fingers at you while a sly smile pulled at his lips.

You gaped at him, head falling forward in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me, hah, no fucking way dude!” You exclaimed, leaning back, you sighed frustrated at the conversation. “Oh shit, gotta go toots, boss is calling. Thanks for letting me up, see ya later.”

You waved by to Angel watching him go. Sitting with your elbows on your knees you stared off into space. Sure you suppose you admired her, sure, she was pretty, occasionally sure you’d check her out admiring how the clothes fit her, but that was purely platonic! Velv was a fashion designer, of course she knows how to accentuate her natural beauty.

And perhaps there were times when you couldn’t quite decide what you felt for her questioning your intentions second guessing your actions. Sometimes as you gazed at her while she worked, you wanted to ease her up a little, relax her from the stress whether that be from praise, a gentle rub or kiss, or something a little more promiscuous; you simply wanted to be her relief.

Other times you wanted to fight her and bitch her out, and then fuck her? You actually didn’t know and it drove you insane, but Angel was the first to spot the way you acted, overly aggressive.

You groaned, frustration emitted from you very clearly as you tugged at your hair. Standing you walk quickly toward Velvette’s and yours’ work sections on the tower's mid floor. Velvette stood at a table when you walked in, she only barely turned her head to you, too busy studying fabrics and colours.

“What’s the pretentious brat got cooking today?” You say walking up beside her looking down at the table. Rolling her eyes she turned to you hand on her hip. “Can you piss off? I’ve got shit to do, real work, not lazing around with a whore.”

Rolling your eyes right back at her, you looked down to the table. “Angels no more of a whore than that filthy moth.” You muttered fingering the fabrics, eyes dancing around the blueprints for an outfit.

“What’re these for?” You ask, meeting her gaze, a bored look plagued her face, but she loosened up slightly at the mention of her work. “These are the new blueprints for our outfits for the upcoming broadcast Vox has planned. He wants to market tech, pornos, clothing and your cosmetics so everything’s gotta be right.”

Velvette looked down harshly at the things laid out in front of her, you could see the gears working in her head as her eyes flicked around the different blueprints, fabrics and rough drafts. You hummed, flicking through a particular set of blueprints that caught your eye. “I’m sure you’ll do great hun, always do.” You muttered absentmindedly, barely focusing on the praise that came from your lips.

Velvette’s head jerked back a bit, eyes watching you. She wasn’t expecting such softly said words to come from you so suddenly, but she definitely didn’t mind it. “Do you want something specific?” Looking toward her you shrugged, trying to ignore the yearning you had to be nearer.

“Just a dress, suppose the only request I have is that I look the part.” You didn’t mean for it to come off sad however, it did, and Velvette felt the rare sting of guilt ping past her heart. She was in fact the one who fought with you the most on who was worthy in the tower, but she always felt you were trying to replace her as “the guru”.

The fight you had earlier was present in your mind as you stood there, it was dumb another thing that sent you spiralling. You stomped off and straight into Angel, thank goodness for that because his presence calmed you surprisingly. The fight was about time slots with models, mainly because one model had been held up by Velvette because she was being a snooty princess again about what the model wore, meanwhile time was ticking on how much time you had to do said model's makeup.

Which ended up spiralling into a screaming cat fight, where you tossed things at her and she tossed them back slinging a slew of colour insults at you as she did so. Normally you and Velvette never apologised but as you stood there beside her looking over stuff you felt as though the moment of peace was close enough to an apology.

“Do you really wanna go to this?” You asked breathing in deeply, catching hints of her perfume that left a warm familiar feeling in your chest. “Hm not really, but we have to.” Picking up navy blue colours, she stacked the square fabrics together.

Swallowing you ask; “What’s your favourite colour?” Stunned Velvettes hands stalled their actions, her eyes meeting yours. You were waiting looking neutrally at her, you simply wanted to know. It was easy to see Voxs was arrays of blues, Val’s pink and red, you fancied emerald and sea greens, and her.. you didn’t know, hot pink?

“I fancy whites, purples, plums…” Trailing off finger to her mouth in thought, she nodded one sternly. “White and plum.” You smile ever so slightly it was a decent conversation for sure. But it definitely didn’t help you inner fight about your feelings for her.

~

Today was the day of the broadcast, the lot of you ventured to Valentinos floor of the tower, doing it up for a big show. There were tons of tables set up, lighting, cameras; the porn stars were done up thanks to you and Velv, they sat on a plush couch their section was going to be an ‘interview with the stars’ no doubt being entirely fake lies. Angel was a part of the cast, much to your dismay, you’d rather him be far from Valentino, but that wasn’t possible. Another area was new improved tech, with tech nerds ready to present and push the new models Voxtech had made.

Off to the back was Velvette’s section where various manikins stood cladded in Velvette’s best work, there were also models present around waiting to pose with the manikins. Your area felt blander than the rest, your cosmetics sat on varying different platforms that lifted them aesthetically, and you had a few head models with you, cameras focused in on only their eyes and lips for the occasional shot. In the middle of the room was where you, Velvette, Vox and Valentino would be.

The lot of you were going to be standing tall with wide smiles, the only one who was set to talk was Vox, the rest of you were just their to claim name to your things. Velvette was running around taking Sinstagram stories and pictures of everything around, building anticipation and hype for everything to come.

You watched her bounce around every now and again yelling at a worker or model about their place here, before getting back to puttering around. She wore a white dress with hearts at the bottom, and her hair was done up in a classic poof instead of her straightened pigtails. “Admiring the goods?” Angel asks, scaring the shit out of you, gasping you grabbed your chest in shock. “Fuck Angel don’t do that to me, and ye- wait what?”

Angel cackled an accusatory finger pointed to you. “Oh cmon! Even Val knows you’re into her, and that’s him.” You stared in disbelief before shaking your head no rapidly. “How would he even know? We barely spend time near each other, I hate him more than Velv.”

Angel scoffed, crossing two sets of his arms he leant against the wall next to him. “Please Velvette’s always ranting about how annoying you are over the phone, telling Val when Vox is probably too sicka her to hear it! Then she goes off saying how you can’t be nice and how you always make it a mission to come and pester er’ and Val said it’s because you wanted to fuck her!” Angel exclaimed slyly leaning forward into you and than backward away.

“That’s not true, we just can’t get along.” Like the devil heard your words, Velvette skipped up to you three, pulling the two of you into her. “Alright! The bitches! That’s more like it!” Velvette shouted, snapping a picture, Angel defaulted to his actor ways posing lustfully at the camera, meanwhile you just smiled unbelievably at Velvette. Once the picture was taken she wasted no time stepping back and sending off the post with a series of different hashtags.

“You look happy today?” You ask more than say watching Velvette smile around the room. “Of course people have stayed quiet, and not been a dickhead all day. Not to mention Vox and Val aren’t in moods.” You nodded in agreement, eyes casting briefly over to the TV who walked around checking the different cameras while Val smoked in the back.

Angel not so subtly snuck off giving your back a shove closer towards Velvette. Even if you could admit to yourself you felt more than platonic emotions for her, it would be extremely hard to accept it or attempt to make a move when you didn’t even know her sexuality.

She’d never seemed interested in Vox or Valentino, but you’ve not seen her eyeing women either. It made you more uncomfortable to ponder the future of accepting your feelings when you could just be cruel and ignore them. “What’s up with you spacey?” Velvette suddenly asked her phone off facing toward the floor.

You anxiously fiddled with your short dress wondering if now would be a good time to start something. “Nothing Velvette, just nerves i guess.” Velvette rolled her eyes, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You’ll be fine, always are anyways. We don’t do shit, it’s all Vox.”

Fair enough. Although that’s true it didn’t really matter considering it wasn’t what was really bothering you. “Are you straight?” You blurt suddenly, hand jerking upward to cover your mouth. Velvette’s eyebrow raised a ‘huh’ falling from her lips.

With a decision in mind, you couldn’t deny it, knowing that even Val saw something you know how you can’t hide it. The daydreams you have of her warm skin next to yours in the morning, the friendship you wish you had, the desire to have her lipstick smeared against your lips, wanting to post cheesy couple pictures together all over Sinstagram.

“Uhh, yeah, are you straight because I haven’t ever seen you around anybody, like, ahem, that.” You stutter out staring at her trying to gauge every little emotion on her face. “Suppose I could be considered, but i fuck who i want no matter the package.” She finally replied, returning to herself after spacing out, looking calmer than you.

“Would ya fuck me?” Scratching the back of your neck as her eyes scanned your face rapidly, trying to read you, trying to tell if you were serious. “Yeah, if you weren’t such a bitch.” You hum watching her once more, this time she looked a little meeker, shifting from foot to foot, her gaze casted downward.

“And what about love? Y’know not just wanting to have a hook up?” You asked a little apprehension evident in your voice, you craned your neck back trying to distance yourself subconsciously.

Softly you felt Velvettes gentle hand on your shoulder, focusing all your attention on her, you watched as her face turned out to the side, only looking at you through her peripheral. Her other hand crawled up to your other shoulder, before drifting softly to your neck, sending shivers down your spine and straight to your toes.

Velvette was still at fully extended arms length, so you stepped forward, cupping her cheeks gently like she was made of the fragilest material. Now eye to eye the two of you simply stared waiting, while invading eachothers space. Cautiously you leaned forward thankfully being her height, you hand your eyes closed already hoping she’d get the message, and either pull away running or indulge.

You were more than shocked to feel her lipstick covered lips meet with yours, soft yet eager. You kissed her back slowly, trying to convey the emotions and feelings you felt without speaking, the apology you wanted to say but didn’t know how.

Pulling you closer by the neck, you fell into her slightly, wrapping your arms around her like she was your world, fully absorbed in the passionate kiss you were sharing. Just as the kiss turned slightly heated, tongues introducing and slipping past the barrier of eachothers mouth Vox screamed. “You’ve got Velvettes makeup on your face, FUCK, why?! Why?! Five minutes before we’re live!” Jumping apart the two of you looked toward Vox who was already glitching out, meanwhile Val just stood smuggly sucking his pipe.

“Don’t worry he’s just mad that he now owes me one hundred dollars, losers weepers,” Val breathed his smoke wafting around the TV’s head. Velvette threw the bird at Vox before turning to you pulling out a handkerchief. “Weren’t you calling someone geriatric, now you’re pulling out handkerchiefs?” You teased, her hand coming up to wipe her black lipstick that stained your face.

“Oh piss off, or we’re both fired,” She scolded but there was no malice in her words like before making your heart flutter. “So how long before this gets out, our little before the air make out sesh?” You inquire as she handed the cloth to you, you wiping her smeared lipstick just as she did for you. “Based on the vibrations from my phone, not long.”

[tomriddleslove]

Foolish, foolish thing.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Tom reflects on how much he hates everything, yet he can’t seem to stop. Alternatively: Tom has a dramatic internal monologue.

A/N: I’m going to cry this is actually so foul but REPOST since I accidentally deleted my fucking account. I now have to try remember whatever I wrote 😭. This was my first ever fic so be nice ( or don’t it’s ok)

Song: Sour Switchblade - Elita

Warning: Brief mention of unaliving

There were many things in life that angered Tom.

Whilst it is safe to presume that worrying about mindlessness niceties was beyond the realm of Tom Riddle’s concerns, one could ground some form of justification for his pessimistic outlook on life.

See, anger is a scale. One one end, you have the mild anger. A brief moment of frustration - a hot flash, an unthought remark. It comes just as quickly as it goes. We all felt it. Wether it was reasoned or not, we all did. United in our emotions.

Then , there’s the midpoint of the spectrum, a noticeable presence in the day. Anger wraps her hands around your throat, she does not squeeze. The presence is noticeable, but not burdening. It affects you for a day, perhaps two . This one lingers slightly. It pushes at the surface of the heart, scratches lightly. No visible mark. Tom perhaps most resonated with this. Anger, like all emotions, was a part of being human, being mortal. In the absence of anger, we would not have happiness. Anger was not inherently bad.

Aristotle believed that the most virtuous of people; Those who hoped to achieve eudamonia - enlightenment- would find a golden mean inbetween the emotions. Everything was paired. For recklessness, you had cowardice. For the indulgent, you had the unfeeling.

The traits we associate with virtue, such as bravery, or compassion, lay inbetween the vices of excess and deficiency.

So let anger be the vice of deficiency, bitter and resentful. Happiness is the vice of excess, obsequious and suppliant. Most of us would fall somewhere in the middle, fluctuating between excess and deficiency.

Tom lived in deficiency. He let the anger accumulate. She held her hand against his throat, not enough to suffocate but enough for him to forget what it was like to breathe, uninterrupted. He seldom grew used to her presence, a welcome sight. That seemingly harmless scratch, the anger that wasn’t enough to send him lashing out, or breaking down, every single day. It erodes at him.

The only testament to Tom Riddle having a heart was the damage inflicted on it.

Perhaps what sent Tom to the very end of the spectrum was laughable. He could tolerate the relentless tirades from the children at the home he stayed at. He never cared much for their words anyways, it wasn’t enough to tip the scale.

It wasn’t the way his peers had largely changed their attitude to him after he had discovered he was the heir of Slytherin. The same mouths that tormented him, now singing his praises. No, he didnt care for that. Wether people liked him or not, he knew power came from fear. Yes, perhaps to establish that standing he needed to employ charisma, be at least undetected. But trust, and respect, would not get him anyway here. Anything that is earned, can be revoked. Fear was instilled. It was engrained - it controlled what you did, and how you did it.

So what did push Tom to that forsakes far end of the spectrum? The place where anger constricts your airways? She digs her teeth into the side of your neck and tugs at your heart?

Foolishness.

Tom hated foolishness.

He loathed it. The mere sight of it gnawed at his very being (or what was left of it) . He could not stand the the foolish. Those who deluded themselves into thinking it was ok to wallow in self pity. Those who believed they were untouched.

Any form of foolishness? He hated it.

One cannot live in constant anger for long. The toll it takes on the being is too high, it is simply not sustainable. There was a beautiful irony in Tom’s pursuit for immortality, for if he didn’t seek to do so he would surely be dead in a year. Two, if he was lucky.

Why? Because more often than not, Tom had now been living with an excess of anger for the better part of a year. He learnt how to breathe whilst being suffocated, learnt how to compose himself despite the pressure it exerted on him. Tom was witnessing the very thing that angered him so much daily now.

And he was the perpetrator.

His anger for foolishness came from his utter disbelieve that anyone could, or would, willingly allow themselves to be fooled. To be vulnerable, to have something that they blindly followed. He thought it was simply the most unthinkable, daft action anyone could do. Yet, when it came to you, Tom was an absolute fool.

There is no polite way to put it, really. Tom thought nothing of you when he first met you. No sort of spark, a burn, an indescribable longing. No- to him you were the nameless person he spent every Thursday afternoon with during your double potions lesson.

But maybe that was better. It wasn’t on some kind of hedonistic basis that he fell for you.

Rather, it was his very being that fell for you before he could even comprehend what happened.

It was alien to him, the way his heart beat ever so slightly quicker when you would brush past him to reach for some ingredients, the faint scent of your perfume sending him into a haze. It was him searching for you subconsciously every thursday, it was him somehow being attuned to every laugh you exchanged with your friends at the far end of the slytherin table. It was obsessive, it crept up on him and grabbed him, holding him hostage to his own dismay.

Tom's realization gnawed at the very fabric of his identity, as if the foundation of his carefully constructed persona was slowly eroding. The anger he harbored towards foolishness now manifested within himself, and the more he tried to resist, the deeper he found himself sinking into the quicksand of emotions he disdained.

Every moment with you chipped away at the fortress he built around his heart. It was a cruel irony, for the very emotion he deemed foolish had become an adversary within. The disdain he felt for the vulnerability of others now echoed in his own internal struggle, and the knowledge that he, the formidable Tom Riddle, was succumbing to such weakness tormented him.

Love was an unwelcome guest, an intruder in the sanctuary of his calculated existence. He despised the way his thoughts involuntarily veered towards you, the way his heart betrayed the logic he clung to so desperately.

He hated the way you made him feel. The way he found himself wanting to be near you. He found that he didn’t mind stopping what he was doing if he could be with you. You didn’t willingly veer him off his path to greatness, but heaven knows that for you? Tom would careen himself off that track. And he hated that fact.

He hated it so much he contemplated snuffling the life out of you when you sat together in your room, subdued by a comfortable silence. He contemplated ending it all (whether it be you, or him) . A simple flick of his wand, it’s all he needed to do, and you’d be gone.

But no.

See, Anger lingered, it built up. But love?

Love clung. It burrowed into the desolate hallways of his heart, embedding its tendrils into him, refusing to ever leave.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the taste lingered like an enduring reminder of his own fallibility-

His own humanity.

The universe, it seemed, reveled in weaving the threads of his downfall from the very fabric he detested – the foolishness of love.

A small sigh, whether it be of defeat or acceptance (were they really ever different things?) escapes his lips, as he turns over, the feeble blanket that enveloped the both of you providing little to no warmth in the mid November night.

His eyes trace over your sleeping form; the gentle rise and fall of your chest. His hand hesitates for a second, gently reaching out. He places his hand ever so lightly atop of your chest, the warmth of your body seeping into him the same way your very being sept into his. He feels the rhythmic beating of your heart, and is once again reminded of how easy it would be. To just pierce the damned thing, and not feel this way anymore. To not feel like you were drowning him , yet he also needed you to breathe.

He hesitates for a second but ultimately, as he has always done, moves his hand up to brush away a strand of misplaced hair from your face, as he lets his eyes flutter shut. He pulls the blanket slightly tighter over himself, resting his head near your shoulder, forehead pressed against your skin.

He’ll do it another day, he convinces himself.

Such a foolish, foolish thing.

[kindestofkings]

sunshine baby [1]

robert keating x reader (she/her)

faceclaim: gracie abrams (ofc hahah)

authors note: hello hello! this is a really random one, I am a broken record but I am self projecting in these hence why the reader is always home friends with the boys. also theres so many time skips lol

I really home you enjoy, would really appreciate any feedback or comments yee might have <33

2020

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername 2 months into lockdown we are playing, we are hot girl walking and most importantly we are hot girl drinking 💅

view all 20 comments

bobbyskeetz thanks for choosing the most flattering photos luv x

yourusername any time baby any time :))

yourbestfriend i miss you and your impromptu sing songs <3

yourusername no I miss you so much !! boys are really smelly sometimes 😀 yourbestfriend thats what you get for dating bobby SKEETZ bobbyskeetz heyy yourusername I know right?? bobbyskeetz HEYYYY

elijahhewson there is very little going on behind those eyes

yourusername the bulmers was very warm... and we just lost a zoom quiz

joshjenkinson_ keep our boy sane !

yourusername and whos gonna keep me sane?? whos gonna keep me alive? ryanmcmahon_15 did you put yourself on the line?

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend and others

yourusername as y'all know I dabble with playing some piano andddd my very cool, talented boyfriend and his friends asked me to play on a few tunes for their DEBUT ALBUM. thank you for briefly employing me :))

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joshjenkinson_ no thank YOU

ryanmcmahon_15 we owe you forever, this is so exciting !

bobbyskeetz as your boss can you make me a cuppa?

yourusername and your legs stopped working when?? also you're closer to the kitchen than I am rn!

bobbyskeetz they just cant take the weight of being such a musical success 😔 friend1 @bobbyskeetz how does she put up with you? bobbyskeetz shh dont make her reflect on her decisions

yourmam so proud of you chicken!!

yourbestfriend and the start of your music career is when?

yourusername oh hush you heheh elijahhewson she asks the important questions yourusername why be a musician when you can be a broke college student right 😀

yourusername posted to their story!

if the boys have zero fans, i am dead.

bobbyskeetz so extreme but I love you <3

bobbyskeetz

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

bobbyskeetz EVEN BIGGER NEWS !!! Our greatest hits debut album is coming out on July 16th for all you beautiful people to hear. We poured our hearts and souls into this and can’t wait for you to listen . Couldn’t have done it without @theantski @thedrewmanshow @johncatlin @andrea.cozzaglio and all the other talented people who helped get this record finished.

IT WONT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS !

view all 100 comments

bobbyskeetz ALSO @yourusername for the pretty piano playing

yourusername hushhh rn CONGRATS ON THE SUPERB album

inhalerfan1 i'm seriously so proud of you guys 💙

inhalerfan2 finallyyyy

yourmam well done boys!! huge achievement

bobbyskeetz thank you :))

yourusername

liked by yourmam and others

yourusername it is very cool and a lil strange seeing my fella on posters while im on my daily hot girl walk....

it always be wont this like is out today woooo!

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elijahhewson I dont remember that photo being taken 😑

yourusername you just release your debut album you gotta celebrate! yourfriend shes just too nice, you were locked.

yourmam lovely photo, why are yee outdoors though? 😂

bobbyskeetz sure we're following covid restrictions! you're looking at four v responsible boys!! yourmam hmmm I don't know about that one now!

yourbestfriend no cause robert and sir hewson would wanna stop looking into my soul..

elijahhewson 😐😐 bobbyskeetz 😐😐 bobbyskeetz what about josh huh he's also throwin some looks yourbestfriend josh can do whatever he wants 🫶🏼 (liked by joshjenkson_ and yourusername)

yourusername oh also everyone compliment ryan on his GORGEOUS hair

yourbestfriend such a power move I adore x yourfriend ryan how does it feel being coolest member of dublin's coolest band?? joshjenkson_ so fit, is he single...?

bobbyskeetz not sure if you got the album name exactly right there..

yourusername huh I dont see anything wrong 🤔

2021

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername the trio is back and just in time to see the boys killing it at fairview park 🔥

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yourbestfriend forget about them WE are killing it

yourfriend mmhmm we slay 😤

yourbestfriend posted to their story!

when the base player with a staring problem is away, the girlies can steal his girlfriend 🤘🏼

bobbyskeetz oi oi get your feet of my dining table 😤

bobbyskeetz

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bobbyskeetz happy birthday beautiful.

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inhaler1 this is my thirteenth reason 💔

yourusername miss you rockstar!

inhaler1 miss girl who are you? and can you please accept my follow request

inhaler2 nooooooo you're taken ?!?

ryanmcmahon_15 hundreds of girls heartsbroken with the softest of soft launches haha

lewevans the spooky powers of mr skeetz

yourbestfriend FINALLY you're letting him show you off

yourusername haha this is too much please stop 🥺 🥰

inhalerfanupdates

liked by inhalerfan1 and others

inhalerfanupdates I hope its real cause I need a gun after seeing bobbys soft launch

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inhalerfan1 im so sad I cant

inhalerfan2 im afraid to ask but how long do you think they've been together

inhalerfan3 i 😭 cant 😭😭 think 😭😭😭 about 😭😭😭😭 it

part 2

[katzkinder]

Kitty mentioned that Hokaze’s name was not only strange for a woman, but also that it was hard to find a connection with her name and the theme the rest of the Alicein have. Now I’m no expert at Japanese names (much less Japanese itself) but I had fun digging to see what I could find, and I found quite a lot! So let’s get to it :D

Interpreted to the best of my ability, Misono’s mom has a name which roughly means “one who is quick to overcome ups and downs”

Which is why she was drawn holding Jane Eyre when she and Lily met

She’s an inversion of Jane’s story, just like the Alicein brothers are an inversion of Cain and Abel

For anyone who’s never read Jane Eyre, a quick and dirty plot summary of the relevant parts is that Jane, an orphan girl, eventually ends up in the employ of a rich man who she falls in love with, however he is married and because of that, she refuses to continue their relationship. The man of the house reveals that the reason he didn’t tell her this is because his wife was insane, and she screams and barks and growls and runs around like an animal. Eventually the woman in her insanity burns down the manor, but her husband escapes and, now a widow, it would no longer weigh on Jane’s conscience to marry him. The books ends with Jane writing about how they’re expecting their first child together. The book’s themes of morality and class differences are echoed, to the result of tragedy, in the story of the Alicein

Hokaze doesn’t manage to overcome her status of being born a penniless orphan by marrying a rich man and joining the upper classes. Instead she is murdered by his wife who has been driven mad with jealousy. Her story is one of an idealistic dream, executed in a self serving manner, confronted with reality that cost her her life

Also, the 歩 part of hokaze’s name can also be read as “fu,” a pawn in shogi :))

Mikado is the emperor, kiriko is the princess, and Mikuni the kingdom they made together

Hokaze wanted to be queen but was merely a pawn, and ultimately playing a very different “game” than the royalty around her

It’s also notable that the one who put her down that path is Lily, who shares a name with the white pawn Alice takes the place of during the chess game in Through The Looking Glass.

Her scheme also gives the name she gave Misono a very different light.

She gave him a character from Mikado’s name, “proof” of his infidelity, and the one for garden, because he is the “fruit” of her labors, the beautiful rose of the future queen of Wonderland

The extreme irony here is that Mikuni is much more like Hokaze in his actions, while Misono closely resembles Kiriko’s loyalty and ability to forgive others (at the cost of himself)

Also, Mikuni is going to hate this, but

His desire to protect misono from the harsh truths of the world, even going so far as to burn down part of his own home, is… Very, very Mikado. It’s fine if he cheats, manipulates, and even hurts Misono, so long as the result is Misono continues to be able to live with such a simple and idealistic view of love and life

They look like their mothers, inherited behavior patterns from each other’s, and also share quite a lot with their father

It’s a very beautiful way of weaving them together as a family, and also Strike’s use of word play to set Hokaze apart from the Alicein cast while also giving her name something to tie her to the theme is extremely clever. Boy is it mean though xD

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you guys think :)

[maria-from-ga]

Raven, the Empathetic Sorceress Part 2

In Part 1, I mention how TT03 Raven is an empath like in NTT living off & struggling to control her emotions. Now, I wanted to talk about other powers from NTT Raven also has in the show.

Here's Part 3 that covers TT03's Raven healing, conventional uses of empathy, and her use of magic

(Sources in Pink)

Soul Self, Her Greatest Weapon

In my opinion, there is where the biggest misconception arise.

Like in NTT, Raven's primary "weapon" in battle in Teen Titans (e.g. those dark circles of energy like in the picture above) wasn't magic, but her soul-self.

(1st image: DC Comics Presents #26- Raven 1st appearance and she uses her soul-self to battle the enemy and 2nd image: Teen Titans 4x07 "The Prophecy"- Raven utilize her full soul-self to defeat a Trigon-powered Slade who was threatening her friends)

Raven in TT03 just primarily used pieces of her soul-self. She states explicitly in the 1st season finale she uses pieces of her soul to utilize her powers, thus that her soul is also the basis of her powers

(Teen Titans 1x13: "Car Trouble" - Raven explains that her soul is the basis of powers to Cyborg. As an aside, "I become a part of it & it becomes a part of me" is a beautiful detail of her soul-self powers in the show that I wish to see incorporated in the comics. In TT03, Raven develops this connection w/ all living things she encounters when she uses her soul, an extension of herself)

In Raven's first appearance (as shown in the image from DC Comics Presents #26 above), Raven's soul-self is called an ebony aura, like the black projections she employs in TT03.

Raven's soul-self is because her soul-self & its powers comes from her demon dad, Trigon, and is thus of dark energy.

(Image- New Teen Titans (1980) #29- Raven is tricked by Phobia to see Wally, who she loved and he loved her, as Trigon so she attacks and almost kills Wally with the full strength of her soul-self. Wally describes her soul-self as cold & death. GIF- Teen Titans 1x06 "Nevermore"- Dr. Light pushes Raven too far and Raven unleashes her soul-self & almost kills him. Light shivers because she is so cold and describes her soul-self as near-total darkness)

To be fair, I get this misconception because NTT Raven uses her whole soul-self, not pieces of it.

However, TT03 Raven also uses her full soul-self. It just usually require more focus/power from her.

(Teen Titans 3x05- Haunted - Raven access more of her powers by uttering Azarath Metrion Zinthos to use her whole soul-self to find Robin)

There are several other instances in Teen Titans where Raven uses her whole soul-self:

(Teen Titans 1x01- Final Exam - Raven uses her whole soul-self to teleport Jinx to the top of Titans tower to the final confrontation. Jinx shivers from being in the soul-self because she experienced the cold, dark aura of Raven's soul)

Collection of other instances (non-exhaustive):

(1st Row: 1) Teen Titans 4x03 "Birthmark" - Using her soul-self to escape Slade chasing her. 2) Teen Titans 4x07 "The Prophecy"- Using Her Soul-Self to travel to Azarath, which is in another dimension. 2nd Row: 3) Teen Titans 4x07 "The Prophecy" - Confronted Slade about what he wanted to get him to stop attacking her friends. 4) Teen Titans 2x01 "How Long Is Forever" - Teleports to the final battle against Warp. 3rd Row: 5) Teen Titans 2x05 "Fear Itself" - Absorbs the manifestation of her fears back into her soul-self and regain of her soul-self. 6) Teen Titans 4x03 "Birthmark"- Slade taunts her to release her full soul-self to bring about the prophecy)

It's more rare in the NTT & TT03, but Raven's astral form, her soul-self, can also take the shape of her body

(1st image: NTT (1980) #8- Raven's astral form resembles her body as her soul is desperately trying to reconnect to her body; 2nd image: Teen Titans 4x11 "The End Part 1"- Raven mediates to use her astral human form to end the fight against Plasmus 3rd image: Teen Titans 5x12 "Titans Together" - Raven uses her astral human form to escape the dimension trap Psimon tried to put her in)

Raven's Soul-Self in both the show & comics is like a Swiss Army Knife:

Beyond the general utility of getting her out of tricky situations:

(NTT #8- Raven uses her soul-self to escape from Green Lantern's cage)

(Teen Titans 2x05 "Fear Itself" - Use her soul-self to escape from the elastic tapes of Control Freak)

1. Soul Self can also capture people within itself:

Either to save:

(1st image: NTT (1980) #21- Raven uses her soul-self to save an unconscious Starfire after an bomb exploded. 2nd image: NTT (1980) #17- Raven uses her soul-self to save Cyborg from Francis Kane going out of control.)

("The End Part 1"- In the fight against Plasmus, Plasmus hits Robin and Raven envelops Robin in her soul-self to save Robin from a deadly fall)

Or to harm (as NTT Wally & TT03 Dr. Light can certainly attest):

(Image: NTT (1980) #21 - Raven uses her soul-self to envelope and incapacitate criminals who planted bombs in a baseball stadium; GIF: The Prophecy - Raven uses the full extent of her soul-self to seriously attack and harm a Trigon-empowered Slade after he tried to kill her fellow Titans)

2. Cover Great Physical Distances Fairly Quickly:

(Image: NTT (1980) #9 - After her fellow Titans were taken over by the Puppeteer, Raven uses her soul-self to quickly cover from NYC to Blue Valley, Nebraska to get Wally's (Kid Flash) help; 1st GIF: Teen Titans 3x01 "Deception" - After defeating Brother Blood at H.I.V.E. Academy, Robin asks Raven to help the Titans quickly escape the crumbling school and travel back home. Raven does so by enveloping the Titans in her soul-self; 2nd GIF: "Birthmark" - To herself and Robin to escape Deathstroke, Raven uses her soul-self to travel far away from Slade)

3. A Defense & Shield Against Enemy Attacks

(Image: NTT (1980) #17 - As Francis Kane, a friend of the Titans, is taken over by Dr. Polaris and starts to manipulate and throw around heavy metal objects. Raven uses her soul-self as a shield to absorb the heavy metal objects so they don't hurt innocents. GIF: Teen Titans 3x08 "Wavelength"- Raven uses her soul-self energy to shield attacks from H.I.V.E soldiers)

4. And of course: Telekinesis

(Image: NTT (1980) #8 - Raven uses her soul-self to carry away bombs from a school before they kill a bunch of students and teachers. GIF: Teen Titans 1x02 "Divide and Conquer"- Raven uses her soul-self to carry a bunch of metal canisters to attack Plasmus)

Aside: Energy Projections

In NTT, it was more rare but Raven did employ energy projections from her soul self

(Tales of Teen Titans #46 - Raven, enraged, lose controls and Trigon takes over, so she releases energy projections that incapacitates and nearly kills HIVE soldiers and Aqualad)

In the comics, this was usually occur when Raven was close to losing control to Trigon, so it can be rare to see from Raven. But in TT03, again tied to Raven being able to use pieces of her soul-self, she has more control over her soul energy and can release these energy projections more frequently.

(Teen Titans 5x07 "Hide and Seek" - Raven releasing her energy projections of her soul-self to blast Monsieur Mallah away from the kids she is watching over)

Therefore Raven's soul-self act very similarly in TT03 and NTT comic, just that TT03 Raven has more control and creativity in some of its utilizations, including:

Teleportation

Raven's primary mode of transportation in NTT was teleportation (don't tell her you call it that though lol)

(1st image: NTT (1980) #14 - Raven teleporting to the epicenter of an earthquake that Brotherhood of Evil arriving there faster than Wally West; 2nd image: NTT (1980) #28 - Raven explaining to Wally that she doesn't teleport but travel between dimensions* and that Beast Boy is being overdramatic so she is not teleporting to him**)

However, most people remember Raven flying in TT03, not teleporting:

( "Hide and Seek" - Raven flying around a monastery to find the kids she was watching over after she realized Mallah had found out where the kids were hiding)

Pure speculation, but I wouldn't be surprised if TT03 made flying Raven's most common mode of transportation similar to 1940s Fleischer Superman cartoons did so for Superman*** - flying's easier to animate

But this doesn't mean Raven never teleported in TT03, she actually did teleport quite frequently:

Be it in a form of a raven closer to the comics:

(1st GIF: "Fear Itself"? - Full disclosure I didn't make this gif so I am not sure of the exact episode it came from, but I believe it is from "Fear Itself" where Raven was teleporting across the tower to see where Cyborg was taken to after he was kidnapped; 2nd GIF: "Calling All Titans"- Raven uses her soul-self to travel to the dimension where Herald, an Honorary Titan, resides and tries to find him)

Or more frequently in simpler forms like circles (again likely again due being easier to animate) :

(1st GIF: a) 1st scene is Teen Titans 3x03 "Betrothed"- Raven teleports using circular forms of her soul energy to investigate why Blackfire is forcing Starfire to get marry and hides when Blackfire approaches. b) 2nd scene is Teen Titans 3x04 "Crash" - Raven teleports in a circle to stop Gizmo from leaving to force him to help Cyborg . 3rd scene is Teen Titans 3x09 "The Beast Within" - Raven teleports away in an oval shape of her soul energy to escape Adonis who is pinning her down and being creepy. 2nd GIF: a) 1st scene is Wavelength- Raven teleports in a circle to leave her room after Aqualad trips the tower's alarm. b) 2nd scene is Teen Titans 5x12 "Titans Together" - Raven teleports into Brotherhood of Evil's secret lair with the kids she was watching c) 3rd scene is Divide and Conquer- Raven closes the prison doors and teleports through the prison door to tell the prisoners that they aren't escaping)

As as aside, in TT03, there was no smoke with the teleportation like the comics but again I wouldn't be surprised if it was again just a decision to make animation easier.

As mentioned in the NTT #21 image above with she attacks the bombers, Raven's Soul Self is powerful, deadly, yet ill-defined, so there's potential for a lot of creativity with her soul-self powers.

Now of course, TT03 Raven doesn't use her soul-self exactly as NTT Raven. Aside from being able to use pieces of her soul, a prominent example is how Raven doesn't use her soul-self to knock people out unconscious in the show as often as NTT Raven did (but TT03 Raven has utilized her soul-self that way)****. TT03 Raven also has much greater control & creativity over telekinesis and soul energy projections than NTT Raven did.

But it's clear that TT03 Raven's soul-self is clearly modeled after, and very similar to, NTT Raven's soul-self while using the inherent creativity in power utilization her soul-self possesses.

Raven is the most powerful Titan and the one with the most diverse skill set, so there's still one more part about her TT03 powers lmao. And honestly it might be my favorite part because it is about Raven was also a healer like in NTT, her empathy in TT03 & how she was the most understanding Titan because of that empathy, and the misconception about her TT03 magic, which is in line w/ NTT. But I ran over the image limit again lol, so here's Part 3!

Asterisks:

*Raven's teleportation really being inter-dimensional travel is what she was referring to in Tales of the New Teen Titans #2 image in Part 1 where Young Raven spent time learning the secrets of inter-dimensional travel

**NTT Raven being rude about Beast Boy might be surprising, NTT Raven can be a bit of grouch (sounds like someone we know lol? Maybe I will do a post about how the personality of TT03 Raven is a modernization of NTT Raven)

***Trivia: Fleischer Superman cartoons canonized flying for Superman, who before the cartoons couldn't fly, only "able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!"

****in Part 3

[spiritual-nature]

That 3p who? (quotes from Neville on the unfavorable) your sp is yours

yall need to stop giving them power lmao , who tf is that? I've never heard that name before. They do not exist , idk why someone even made that term lmao . Its only me, its always just been me . Why do y'all just make up people at this point as competition . Read Neville, listen to neville's lectures seriously.

"Instead of “Out of sight, out of mind”, it really is “Out of mind, out of sight”. "

-Neville Goddard (his book "your faith is your fortune")

Stop acknowledging that bitch , she doesn't exist , stop acknowledging shit you Do.Not.Want

Stop saying their name , stop being aware they exist . Like everytime you think of it stop yourself and remind yourself that they only want you , stop the thought right there every time and eventually your subconscious will stop doing that, train yourself. Erase those thoughts and replace them with your new ones, revise it and/or turn your mind away from ruminating. Lol stop talking about people that don't exist.

"I know there was no need to form an organization to destroy these, but that if I ignored them they would die for want of attention. Ignore them and they will die for lack of awareness."

-Neville Goddard (his lecture "the knowledge of God")

"A desire is but an awareness of something we lack or need to make our life more enjoyable. To remove the veil of the senses we do not employ great effort; the objective world vanishes by turning our attention away from it. Qualities die for want of attention, so the unlovely states might best be rubbed out by imaging "

-Neville Goddard (Book "out of this world" chapter 4 "No one to change but self" )

"Qualities die for want of attention, so the unlovely states might best be rubbed out by imagining "beauty for ashes and joy for mourning" rather than by direct attacks on the state from which we would be free. Pain comes from lack of relaxation."

-Neville Goddard (Lecture "five lessons")

Kill the old man, it doesn't have power over you.

[gabessquishytum]

Hob meets a pregnant Dream as he's delivering for his own local (but) fancy and low-staffed meal delivery service.

Dream needs help getting the proper nutrients and nutrition while pregnant, so he (was forced) along with his sisters to taste all food delivery services that delivered to his apartment and Hob's service was the only one with food he could stomach, let alone actively liked.

Hob doesn’t normally deliver his meals, but Matthew was sick and self-employed business owners do what's necessary. Dream answered the door, and Hob was smitten instantly by the beautiful grumpy pregnant person at the door. Then he turned around asking if Hob could maybe help him out by putting the food away in the kitchen. Hob may have been a little ass-matized --- staring (perving) on this gorgeous person's ass --- saying of course.

Thank goodness Dream's delivery was Hob's last one, because he doesn’t leave for a few hours. Not in a dirty way,,,, yet!

Hob is a reformed slut, and he might want to keep this man and baby, so he has to be chill...offering to cook for him in person-fresh (daily) a few times a week, is just being helpful. (Shut up!)

AHHH I love this concept!!!

Hob is reasonably good at catering to the needs of pregnant people - he had younger siblings, he's had pregnant friends. So it's pretty easy for him to get into Dream’s good books by offering essential services such as: 3am ice cream delivery, lower back massage, shaving Dream’s legs for him, talking to him during the night when he can't sleep, cuddles after hormonal outbursts. Dream is just wondering where this angel came from and why he's here in Dream’s apartment making salt caramel cookies and holding Dream’s bump for him for minutes at a time.

Dream entire family are also like how??? have you managed to get this reasonably normal man to be your slave??? They don't know that Hob is having the best time gently perving on Dream’s perfect figure. Plus who doesn't enjoy cuddles and midnight snacks? Hob is having a great time.

They don't even fuck until Dream is way over 6 months gone and just super uncomfortable yet vaguely horny 24/7. It makes perfect sense to ask Hob for help. Turns out he was a magic cock that makes Dream wish he hadn't waited so long to jump his bones - he should have bent over the counter that first day when Hob came with the food delivery, it would have made so much more sense!

...just like it makes perfect sense to put Hob’s name on the birth certificate when Dream eventually pops out the kid. He figures Hob has earned to right (especially since Dream broke his hand squeezing so hard during labour).

Hob didn't think that being helpful would make him a dad, but you won't hear him complaining. He can't wait to take care of Dream’s sexy little butt forever <3

[fancifulplaguerat]

Proper (but non exhaustive!) Nina Kaina post. 

I continue to obsess over how Nina is framed within Patho Classic's text and how players may be meant to view her. To me, she occupies a half-divine or mythic role to other characters and within the text itself that portrays her as an epitome of utopian ideals. I think Nina's character is, to an extent, the ideal of utopia that the Kains and other utopians are fighting under. In particular given Victor deadass says that “Nina is not just my beloved wife. She is a spirit in whose name one could charge into battle with despair itself.” But another line that haunts me about Nina being revered as an ideal is when Yulia tells Daniil “They loved her for being a true queen. They love her for having died young.” She likewise says that “people adore her even more now than when she was alive.” Whether purposeful or not, Yulia brings to mind the objectified ideal of a beautiful woman who dies young and thus retains perpetual beauty alongside the potential of youth and all the possibilities which attend that.

The player’s understanding of Nina is often informed by those who desired or adored her, with character descriptions generally reiterating that Nina was foremost imposing and attractive—that she had a “terrible and powerful presence” and “imperial deportment;” that she was “a radiantly beautiful woman,” “The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” These descriptions further paint her as charming virago type, “So wild and fierce and intimidating! Just one brief look at her walking down the street—with or without her escort—could make you weak in the knees. You could almost picture her upon a throne. She could cut you with a knife looking you in the eye—and no one would say a thing.” Even Aglaya’s vitriolic description of Nina forefronts her as beautiful, blue-blooded, and fierce: “Nina was  the embodiment of absolute evil. The charming, intoxicating, beautiful evil, the evil that can drive you mad. The graceful and elegant evil that is fast to capture anyone in its web—even those who stand up to evil till the very last.” Thus that, I feel, is the primary portrait of her offered in passing—that Nina was beautiful, regal, and untouchable. 

Yet Katerina offers more insight into Nina’s actual self when she confides Victor/Nina’s history to Clara. She says, “Nina Lilich [was a] bright, refined, devilish aristocrat who fell for Victor for some reason, and he brought her here, in this faraway corner of the Steppe. It turned out then that Nina was harbouring plans concerning this place… And the Kains’ elders, Georgiy and Simon, had certainly impressed her… To put it briefly, Nina became the ruler of this land. […] Nina was striving to get to a place where no human being is allowed, and dragging her followers along, believing that her goal justified their suffering.” Is this conversation, Katerina further notes, “To Nina, human lives were tools.” Little Vlad similarly says, “Nina the Wild never held human lives in high regard.” An implication of cruelty, yet one employed to achieve noble aims. Yulia too points to this, saying that “Whatever power Nina had to dominate the souls of her subjects, she hardly ever resorted to it. Not that she needed to. She was worshipped all the same and her most inhumane endeavours were eagerly forgiven […] The reason would be, perhaps, that whatever Nina did, she did to appease the people. However cruel, her every undertaking would illuminate the town with festivity and high spirits.” 

Katerina, Yulia, and Vlad’s dialogues suggest that Nina was cruel by necessity, but adored nonetheless because her aims were ultimately for a greater good—similar, in my mind, to how the game engages with utopia itself. I feel even the emphasis on her attractiveness plays into this (though. hardy fucking side eye) to frame her in-text as synonymous with utopia. 

Yet! I feel Nina is not confined to being the dead beautiful woman, in particular through her involvement with the Polyhedron. Katerina does, after all, state that Nina had her own pre-existing plots. Peter corroborates this, that “Nobody would have allowed me to even model them… if not for Nina the Wild! Nina gave me a whole living town—a town aching and craving to go heavenwards, to the stars—a town desperately hungering for a crown—the crown I’ve given to it!” Given this; yes, the Polyhedron is for Simon, but to me Nina seems no less instrumental to it, namely the Polyhedron’s powers (though I might be misinterpreting this. lmao.) I completely overlooked thus far that it’s seemingly Nina’s soul which affords the Polyhedron its power to allow children to see their dreams. That is, both Victor and Georgiy tell Clara that should she enter the Polyhedron, she is unlikely to see anything because of Nina specifically, not merely because she is no longer a child (debatable, gentlemen). Georgiy says, “I’m afraid Nina will show you nothing, since you’re no longer a child.” Likewise Victor: “I am afraid you’re not going to see anything there. I doubt that Nina will be favorably disposed towards you.” This to suggest the that Nina actively gives the Polyhedron its power, which I feel is further corroborated by Andrey. He describes the Polyhedron as a “mirror that preserves the reflection of the person that has looked into it the last. You know, when Nina died, Maria said she may never be able to cope with grief […] That is when Focus was created.” And another thing!!! Yes, the Polyhedron was created for Simon, but Andrey implies Focus was only created due to Nina; he explains that Peter created Focus likely “because he loved Nina so much […] he ended up creating a space she could inhabit. Can you imagine? You come into a room and can definitely feel that she's there-as if you've simply turned away from her for a second... And you can talk to her.” 

It just compels me to think of the Polyhedron’s machinations not as fucked-up magic (for want of a better word) but Nina actively allowing these children to see their dreams. In this way, Nina is the literal utopia/miracle, but not merely a passive representation of it; rather the active author of it. I think Nina’s role here ties into broader themes about childhood/imagination/motherhood in Patho from which I will abstain because God knows this post is too long already and I am NOT done. Anyway. I think Nina’s involvement with the Polyhedron affords her more characterisation beyond these immortalising/alluring descriptions which more so confine her to occupy the role of utopia incarnate in-text, just as she does in the Townspeoples’ minds. 

Also that as Daniil, the player can converse with her; though I think there is something to be said that it is still through another’s mouth. I trust that we speak to Nina herself, that it is literally her soul—especially given that Maria tells Daniil that she had been sheltering Nina’s memory before Victor; it feels quite literal. BUT. Let’s indulge ! It compels me to consider the ramifications if the player rather speaks to Nina’s ‘memory’—how Victor remembers her, rather than necessarily Nina as she was. That if we speak to Nina’s memory, our interaction her is merely with Nina as an ideal. I wonder whether Victor saw her more as utopia or a woman he fell in love with or both. I mean. I am leaning towards both, given what he tells Clara or how he refers to Nina with the epithet “divine.”

On this note I want to conclude with Victor/Nina’s relationship. In particular that several characters say that Nina was held back by Victor, that Maria’s lack of a husband is what will allow her to surpass her mother. This is echoed most notably, in my opinion, by Khan and Maria herself. Khan also adds that because Nina was “held back by Father […] her power brought more good than evil.” That latter clause interests me in connection to when Peter claims that “Victor was the only person that Nina used to obey not out of fear, but having recognize his superiority […] she rendered complete obedience to Victor, even though he never asked for it.” This implies that Victor could or would stay Nina’s hand from more unsavory means to achieve her goals. That seems consistent with Victor’s character, given that from tossing him on the vivisection table he does seem most compassionate of the Kains. But he never asked her to listen to him, per se, so that implies he would have let her do whatever necessary. 

I do genuinely think that Nina loved Victor rather than potentially seeing him as an instrument for her own aims, given that she only learned of Georgiy/Simon post-marriage (though I do think the opposite reading is possible). Also that simple line when Victor tells Clara that “[Nina] loves me, and is pained by the thought of me having to part with my life…” So perhaps Nina answered to him from her own affections? But then, Peter does make that distinction of ‘superiority,’ which. Perhaps that is clearer in the Russian but it admittedly confuses me. Superiority as in ye olde husband-wife dynamics? That feels doubtful to me; it’s inconsistent with Nina’s character, and the game seems to point away from this—when Daniil states that many wives obey their husbands, Peter argues, “Wives like Nina? No way in hell.” So. Where does that leave us. Was Victor just 'darling if you want. could you perhaps be slightly less evil today but only if you feel like it <3' and Nina decided 'alright perhaps I could be a little less evil. for you <3' but AGAIN Victor did not actually intend Nina to listen to him, which suggests that he would not have stopped her like the domesticated househusband he is. Or the Kains in general, who will purportedly sacrifice anything necessary to achieve their aims. To me all this hinges on what that ‘superiority’ is and honestly I have no satisfactory answer. Does this whole 'Victor held Nina back' insinuate that it was Nina's decision, that Nina chose to hold herself back? 

By way of conclusion I would say I don’t think Nina is truly “evil,” nor are players meant to consider her so. Capella says as much, and I think her characterization ultimately parallels Classic’s preoccupations with utopia. Someone motivated entirely by love and good intentions who is willing to achieve miracles by any means necessary; the latter informing her supposed cruelty or indifference to human life. 

[choccy-zefirka]

We previously had a whole Discourse Session about x reader fic on this blog, but I just saw this in visual form on my dashboard (Blorbo hugging/kissing a greyed-out silhouette instead of the artist's OC), and I am back to thinking how being expected to insert my OC into the author-prepared slot is not my thing (and makes me a bit sad, actually) because... all my OCs fall for their love interest, even if it's the same person, for different reasons.

Isk and Wyll are childhood friends who keep being torn apart by circumstances but inevitably find each other. Mariposa and Wyll are gender-swapped Beauty and the Beast; he is the radiant guiding light that inspires her to rise above her Dark Urge. Wilhelm is a classic sad dad, so his partners Wyll and Karlach help him find joy and whimsy in life again. Or, for example, Alyrr stirs Halsin's heart because she is kind to him, while Cinder falls for Halsin because he is kind to *her*; same goes for Niamh and Zevlor vs Dee and Zevlor.

Likewise, in other fandoms, Azelma Cadash and Blackwall initially despise each other because she thinks he's a boring straight-laced fuddy duddy, and he thinks she's a spoiled princess luxuriating in her father's crime spoils and wearing a Stop Being Poor T-shirt, but as their friendship progresses, each discovers that the other is a more nuanced person than their first impressions might suggest. While Naali Adaar teams up with him as Protector of the Small, and Adiba Adaar turns his head with her incredible Nerd Powers (Nana Lavellan is somewhere at the intersection of that, because she is both a nerd and a professional babysitter in her clan). Thraer Aeducan bonds with Morrigan like a golden retriever excitedly following her around; and Revas Mahariel sits across the room from her like they are a cat and she is also a cat, slowly getting accustomed to each other. Nella Amell gets to Zevran with her sweetness and faith in people, and Zevran gets to Brianna Cousland with his roguish charms, even as she appears to have hidden herself behind a wall of ice and grief.

Alisa Shepard is a neurotic perfectionist, Natalie Shepard is an enthusiastic, confident space adventurer; Garrus loves each of them. And in my newest obsession, Cyberpunk, my current rough and tough but secretly artistic street kid V is going to employ different tactics when convincing Takemura to ditch Arasaka through the power of love (shhh, let me have my headcanon) compared to a hyper-stressed, disillusioned corpo V and a happy-go-lucky nomad V I also have planned. And so on and so on and so on.

Can all these different love stories truly be expressed through x reader fics? Even if x reader is mostly focused on smut, I am not sure how much maneuvering you can do while leaving it generic. Again, going back to my own OCs, Arryn Lavellan, a hot-headed 20-something Dalish First, is a virgin who pretends to be sexually experienced to win Respect Points, and then learns the lesson that he did not have to do that; while Elgara Lavellan, a Circle mage and ex-Tranquil, is also a virgin due to her life circumstances, and her lesson is that there's no shame in having a "first time" after 40. Cinder the Tav is a half-Orc, half-Tiefling, used to being fetishized by intimate partners because of her appearance, so she gets her mind blown when Halsin worships her body as a great gift of nature. Laulu the Tav is a half-Orc, half-Halfling, a humble farm girl with dreams of someone who will love her for her, not her glamorous elf bard persona (courtesy of Disguise Self), so she gets *her* mind blown when Gale takes her, the real her, on a journey through the stars. But Amaya, a full Halfling this time, is a vengeful paladin who used to be married to an evil wizard that entrapped her in illusions of love and bliss in order to manipulate her to do his bidding, so she opts for the humble tryst in the woods, blowing *Gale's* mind this time as he realizes that he can be wanted for more than his magic. So for all of them, even smut will flow differently.

Some anons I got argued that inserting your OC into a love story focused on a canon character is too self-centered; you have to give other people a chance to imagine *their* OCs in this blank spot! And I guess it works for some people (a lot of people, in fact), but I would rather write stories and make art about specific OCs and read stories and admire art with *your* specific OCs and all the endless ways they can kiss that Blorbo.